THE 
HEROINE 
OF  THE 
STRAIT. 


MARY 


CATHERINE 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 
MRS.    BEATRICE  J,  DANE 


The  Heroine  of  the  Strait 


The  Heroine  of  the 
Strait 

A  Romance  of  Detroit  in  the 
'Time  of  Pontiac 


By 

Mary  Catherine  Crowley 

Author  of  "A  Daughter  of  New  France,"  etc. 


Illustrated  by 
Ch.   Grunwald 


Boston 
Little,  Brown,  and  Company 

1902 


Copyright,  1902, 

BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


Published  April,  1902 


UNIVERSITY    PRESS     •    JOHN    WILSON 
AND    SON      •    CAMBRIDGE,    U.    S.    A. 


TS 

'¥73 


"  To  the  dear  Home-folk  " 


762249 


viii  PREFACE 

The  translation  followed  is  the  one  preserved  in 
the  collection  of  the  Michigan  Pioneer  Collection. 
Among  other  authorities  consulted  may  be  mentioned 
Schoolcraft's  version  of  the  Pontiac  Manuscript;  the 
short  diary  of  the  Siege,  thought  to  have  been  written 
by  the  secretary  of  the  British  commandant ;  General 
Bradstreet's  Report ;  the  correspondence  of  General 
Amherst,  Sir  William  Johnson,  Major  Gladwin,  Cap- 
tain Campbell,  and  others ;  Farmer's  "  History  of 
Detroit;"  Ross  and  Catlin's  "  Landmarks  of  Detroit;" 
Mrs.  Carrie  Watson  Hamlin's  book  of  legends,  and 
the  register  of  Ste.  Anne's  Church. 

To  the  researches  of  Mr.  Clarence  M.  Burton  and 
Mr.  Richard  R.  Elliott,  the  work  is  especially  in- 
debted ;  also  to  the  latter's  publication  of  the  Account 
Books  of  the  Huron  Mission,  and  to  the  traditions  of 
the  old  French-Canadian  families. 

Angelique  Cuillerier  was  a  veritable  character,  as 
was  also  James  Sterling,  who  stands  forth  from  the 
pages  of  the  missionary's  diary  a  strong  and  heroic 
personality. 

Other  personages  who  once  lived  figure  in  the 
pages  of  the  romance,  but  in  all  cases  the  reality 
has  only  served  as  a  foundation  for  the  creative  work 
of  the  author's  imagination. 

Dated  from 

"THE  SPARROW'S  PERCH  UNDER  THE  EAVES," 
January  the  first,  nineteen  hundred  and  two. 


Contents 

Page 

CHAPTER  FIRST.      A  Meeting  in  the  Wilderness  ...  i 

CHAPTER  SECOND.      Strangers  at  Le  Detroit    ....  12 

CHAPTER  THIRD.      "Heigh-ho,  for  a  Dancing  Frock"  .  27 

CHAPTER  FOURTH.      On  the  River  at  Sunset  ....  39 

CHAPTER  FIFTH.      Sir  William  Johnson 52 

CHAPTER  SIXTH.      The  Black  Rain 67 

CHAPTER   SEVENTH.      Indians  and  Flintlocks    ....  84 

CHAPTER  EIGHTH.      For  the  Mastery  of  a  Soul     ...  96 

CHAPTER  NINTH.      In  the  Mission  Orchard   .      .      .      .  1 1 1 

CHAPTER  TENTH.      An  Awkward  Encounter.      .      .      .  122 

CHAPTER  ELEVENTH.     A  Message  to  Major  Gladwin      .  134 

CHAPTER  TWELFTH.      A  Cluster  of  Fleurs-de-lis  .      .      .  145 

CHAPTER  THIRTEENTH.      The  Great  Ottawa        .      .      .  158 

CHAPTER  FOURTEENTH.      The  Envoys  of  Peace   .      .      .  175 

CHAPTER  FIFTEENTH.     A  Noble  Gentleman    .      .      .      .  186 

CHAPTER  SIXTEENTH.     A  Daring  Adventure   ....  200 

CHAPTER  SEVENTEENTH.      Courage  Breaks  111  Luck     .      .  217 

CHAPTER   EIGHTEENTH.     The  Ottawa's  Hour      .      .      .  234 

CHAPTER  NINETEENTH.      Angelique's  Scheming  .      .      .  248 

CHAPTER  TWENTIETH.      The  Price  of  Vengeance     .      .  265 


x  CONTENTS 

Page 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIRST.      Love  Thrives  in  War     .      .  281 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-SECOND.     A  Bold  Sally     ....  299 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-THIRD.    "Give  Love  Good- Morrow"  315 

CHAPTER  TWENTY- FOURTH.     A  Messenger  to  Sir  William  329 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIFTH.      Jacques  Godefroy       .      .      .  343 

CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIXTH.      Conquest  in  Surrender  .      .  357 


Illustrations 

From  Drawings  by  Ch.  Grunwald 

Page 
"  Were  those  tears  for  me,  sweetheart,  I  would  bid   you 

dry  your  eyes" Frontispiece 

"  I  cannot  say  '  yes,'  you  will  not  have  me  say  '  no  ' '  44 

As  he  spoke  these  words,  Pontiac  turned  to  his  host  with 

fierce  inquiry 107 

"  Every  Englishman  in  the  town  will  be  killed,  but  not  a 

Frenchman  will  lose  his  scalp" 140 

Pontiac  interposed  his  powerful  figure  between  them  and 

the  door 197 

Drawing  a  knife  from  her  belt,  the  girl  placed  herself  be- 
fore the  mother  and  the  little  one 308 


The  Heroine  of  the  Strait 


CHAPTER  FIRST 

A  MEETING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

IT  was  the  Indian  summer  of  the  year  1760.  The 
Moon  of  Beavers,  from  a  slender  crescent,  shin- 
ing above  the  roseate  sunset  clouds,  and  the  amber- 
tinted  waters  of  Lake  Erie,  had,  like  the  fabled  bow 
of  the  heaven-born  Huron  hunter,  waxed  stronger, 
sending  its  silver  arrows  deep  into  the  heart  of  the 
forest,  and  bidding  the  wilderness  give  up  dark  secrets 
as  unto  the  light  of  day. 

All  too  soon,  however,  this  warrior's  moon,  sinking 
to  the  surface  of  the  lake,  became  as  a  spirit  canoe 
and,  wafted  by  light  sails  of  mist,  disappeared  be- 
neath the  horizon,  leaving  at  the  mercy  of  the  swift 
currents  and  the  night  a  little  fleet  of  bateaux  making 
their  way  along  as  near  as  might  be  to  the  southern 
shore. 

As  the  darkness  closed  in,  the  venturesome  craft, 
illumined  by  the  light  of  some  half  a  dozen  pine 
knots,  stood  out  plainly  against  the  desolate  back- 
ground of  sea  and  wilderness,  and  a  sky  wherein  the 
flame  of  the  stars  seemed  to  have  gone  out,  so  quickly 
was  it  becoming  overcast  with  clouds. 

In  those  few  minutes  the  glimmer  of  the  torches 
showed  the  occupants  of  the  skiffs  as  in  a  picture 


1         THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

framed  with  shadows.  A  party  of  sturdy  men  clad  in 
leather  jerkins  and  trousers,  and  armed  with  hatchets, 
knives  and  guns,  they  might  have  been  mistaken  for 
any  ordinary  company  of  boatmen  and  adventurers 
accustomed  to  traverse  these  waters.  But,  at  a  closer 
view,  their  larger  physiques  and  fair  complexions 
would  at  once  have  shown  that  they  were  neither 
French-Canadian  voyageurs  nor  half-breed  coureurs 
de  bois,  while  despite  the  wood-ranger's  garb  of  the 
tall,  muscular  man  who  stood  in  the  prow  of  one  of 
the  boats,  his  military  bearing  and  air  of  command 
as  readily  proclaimed  him  to  be  a  soldier  and  an 
officer. 

Presently  the  rowers,  seeking  safety  and  shelter, 
with  strong  strokes  swept  the  foremost  bateau  around 
a  point  of  land  and  into  the  harbor  afforded  by  the 
entrance  to  a  little  river,  toward  which  they  had  been 
steadily  making  for  the  last  hour. 

With  muskets  levelled  at  the  neighboring  thickets 
or  knives  in  grasp,  the  weary  travellers  awaited  the 
moment  when  they  might  leap  out  upon  the  beach. 
One  of  the  men,  fancying  that  he  heard  a  stir  in  the 
bushes  that  overhung  the  stream,  and  saw  the  branches 
move,  fired  into  them.  His  companions  jeered;  an 
owl  hooted  mockingly,  and  he  execrated  his  senses 
for  the  trick  they  had  played  him,  wondering  if  he 
might  lay  it  to  the  draught  of  "  fire-water  "  he  had 
shared  with  a  comrade  but  shortly  before,  the  last  in 
his  flask,  as  he  regretfully  recalled. 

No  one  but  the  abashed  fellow  who  had  been  so 
ready  with  his  firelock  felt  the  presence  of  the 
shadowy  figure  that,  creeping  noiselessly  through 
the  underbush,  soon  passed  swiftly  on  to  carry 
through  the  forest  and  beyond  the  news  that  an 
Ottawa  runner  had  crossed  the  trail  of  a  party  of 


A   MEETING   IN   THE   WILDERNESS       3 

soldiers  who  spoke  another  tongue  than  the  French ; 
that  the  British  were  coming  up  the  Lakes  and  into 
the  fastnesses  of  New  France. 

Rash  in  the  easy  self-confidence  that  belongs  to 
those  accustomed  to  dangers,  hilarious  and  active 
after  the  long  day  in  the  boats,  the  torch  bearers 
threw  down  their  brands  and  made  them  the  basis  of 
a  fire.  Several  of  the  men  quickly  cut  the  green 
saplings  near  by  and  added  them  to  the  blaze ;  others 
brought  water  from  the  river,  and  prepared  a  meal, 
to  which  all  did  ample  justice,  the  lake  breezes  hav- 
ing given  to  their  robust  appetites  an  even  sharper 
edge  than  usual. 

Then  before  long  the  soldiers,  all  but  the  guard, 
contentedly  cast  themselves  at  full  length  upon  the 
ground,  with  their  feet  to  the  fire  and,  enwrapped  in 
their  blankets,  were  soon  lost  in  sleep,  forming  a  ring 
that  might  have  suggested  some  great  sacrificial 
wheel. 

Of  the  officers,  a  lank  lieutenant,  in  his  first  cam- 
paign, had  succumbed  to  slumber  also ;  but  the  tall 
leader  of  the  expedition,  his  captain,  and  a  lithe 
young  man  who  was  habited  in  cloth  of  European 
make,  appeared  in  no  haste  to  avail  themselves  of  the 
opportunity  to  obtain  a  few  hours  of  rest. 

Having  thrown  down  upon  the  withered  grass  a 
pile  of  bear  and  buffalo  skins,  they  half  reclined 
thereon,  smoking  the  Indian  weed  and  playing  at 
cards.  The  two  older  men  kept  themselves  warm  by 
frequent  draughts  of  those  "  strong  waters  of  the 
English  "  which  the  Indian  allies  of  the  French  had 
begun  to  find  as  potent  as  the  Canadian  "  eau  de 
vie." 

"  You  do  not  drink,  Sterling,  except  in  such  meas- 
ure as  might  fill  a  lady's  thimble,"  exclaimed  the 


4         THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

white  chief,  clapping  a  rough  though  friendly  hand 
upon  the  shoulder  of  the  young  man  beside  him. 
"Zounds,  before  the  winter  is  out  you  will  find  a  man 
cannot  live  in  this  climate  without  something  to 
warm  his  heart." 

Sterling  laughed,  —  a  careless,  boyish  laugh. 

"  I  fear  I  am  not  so  abstemious  as  you  would  make 
out,  major,"  he  answered  deprecatingly.  "  But  I  am 
not  a  soldier,  and,  should  a  party  of  redskins  arise  of 
a  sudden  from  amid  the  desolation  of  this  wood,  I 
would  fain  not  see  each  warrior  double." 

The  leader  threw  back  his  head,  and  shook  with 
mirth  at  this  sally. 

"  Did  we  think  them  five  times  as  many  it  would 
but  make  the  fighting  brisker.  Is  it  not  so,  Captain 
Campbell  ?  "  he  said,  addressing  the  third  member  of 
this  his  immediate  company. 

"The  warfare  of  the  aborigines  counts  for  little 
when  matched  against  our  ammunition,"  returned  the 
captain,  a  thick-set  man  in  the  prime  of  life. 

"  As  for  your  not  being  a  soldier,  Mr.  Sterling,  that 
is  all  gammon,"  continued  the  major.  "  In  the  en- 
counters we  have  had  with  the  savages,  you  showed 
that  you  can  handle  a  fusil  as  well  as  any  man  in  my 
troop,  while  with  a  rapier  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  was  wont  to  practise  at  fence  with  my 
father,  and  he  learned  the  art  in  France,  as  also  the 
use  of  firearms,"  was  the  careless  response. 

"  Then  why,  by  all  the  Indian  gods,  do  you  not 
join  the  service?  Come,  I  will  obtain  for  you  an 
appointment  in  my  regiment." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,"  answered  Sterling,  as  he  rose 
and  bowed  with  the  respect  of  a  subaltern  to  his 
superior  officer.  "  I  could  ask  no  better  commission 
than  one  under  Major  Rogers,  whose  brave  deeds 


A   MEETING   IN  THE   WILDERNESS       5 

and  thrilling  adventures  are  recounted  by  every  fire- 
side in  the  Colonies.  But,  you  have  forgotten,  I  am 
a  Scot.  My  father  fought  at  Culloden  for  bonnie 
Prince  Charlie." 

"  Humph,  the  cause  of  the  Stuarts  will  not  be  re- 
vived in  our  time,  young  man,"  said  Rogers.  "Let 
us  drink  to  your  advancement  as  an  officer  of  King 
George." 

He  poured  another  draught  for  himself,  and  the 
captain  followed  suit,  saying  he  too  was  from  the 
north,  but  he  had  seen  no  career  before  him  save 
that  of  a  soldier. 

Sterling,  however,  shook  his  head. 

"  I  cannot  swear  allegiance  to  George  of  Hanover," 
he  insisted. 

"  The  heart  of  youth  is  warmed  by  a  mead  more 
irresistible  than  is  this  ferment  of  treacle,"  suggested 
the  captain  in  bantering  fashion.  "The  sweetness 
of  a  maiden's  smile,  the  witchery  of  her  glance,  what 
gallant  can  withstand  them?  Ah,  Sterling,  you  and 
McDougal,  who  is  sleeping  so  audibly  yonder,  had 
best  have  a  care,  else  you  may  fall  victims  to  the 
latter  intoxicating  influences  when  we  reach  our  jour- 
ney's end.  Unless,  of  a  truth,  your  fancy  is  already 
caught  by  some  charming  demoiselle  of  Montreal. 
But  no,  you  rest  and  eat  too  well  to  be  in  love,  to 
this  I  will  testify.  Yet,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  be  a 
soldier,  why  have  you  come  into  the  wilderness?" 

It  was  impossible  to  remain  long  at  odds  with  the 
captain.  The  flush  of  annoyance  that  had  mounted 
to  the  brow  of  the  civilian  died  away  at  this  raillery, 
and  he  answered  with  frank,  good  humor,  "  I  have 
my  fortune  to  make,  and  I  hope  to  trade  for  furs,  as 
some  of  my  people  did  in  Prince  Rupert's  land  a 
hundred  years  since.  Being  neutral,  I  shall  be  able 


6         THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

to  deal  justly  with  all  parties,  French,  Indians,  and 
English." 

"  You  are  not  wanting  in  the  canniness  of  the  Scot; 
I  marvel  it  did  not  occur  to  you  that  you  might  bag 
two  birds  at  once,"  laughed  the  major,  closing  one 
eye  and  nodding  with  significance. 

The  captain  stiffened  perceptibly,  and  a  look  of 
haughty  protest  passed  over  his  usually  amiable  coun- 
tenance. Thereupon  Sterling  bethought  himself  of  a 
rumor  he  had  heard  that  Rogers,  dauntless  soldier  as 
he  was,  had  not  been  above  using  his  authority  for 
his  own  pecuniary  gain.  He  reflected  further,  that, 
but  for  the  strong  ferment  of  the  juice  of  the  sugar- 
cane, the  tongue  of  the  leader  had  not  waxed  so 
free. 

"  In  any  event,  your  sword  is  not  like  to  rust  in  its 
scabbard,"  pursued  Rogers,  flinging  away  his  drinking 
cup.  "  As  for  these  strong  waters,  in  faith  at  times 
they  do  steal  away  a  man's  judgment,  and  make  him 
rash  even  to  foolhardiness.  A  fine  signal  would  this 
camp-fire  be  to  the  savages,  for  instance,  had  I  not 
intelligence  from  my  scouts  that  all  the  Indians  who 
spend  the  summer  hereabouts  have  gone  northward 
for  the  hunting." 

Scarcely  had  he  ceased  to  speak  when  the  sharp 
report  of  a  musket  ringing  through  the  darkness 
aroused  the  sleeping  men,  causing  them  to  spring  to 
their  feet  and  look  to  the  priming  of  their  weapons, 
while,  with  drawn  swords,  the  officers  stood  ready  for 
whatever  might  ensue. 

Presently,  the  Irish  sentry  O'Desmond,  whose  shot 
had  given  the  warning,  appeared  out  of  the  gloom,  and 
beside  him  there  strode  into  the  light  of  the  fire  an 
Indian  youth,  straight  as  an  arrow  and  slender  as  a 
young  birch  tree. 


A   MEETING   IN   THE   WILDERNESS      7 

"  Sir,"  said  O'Desmond,  saluting  the  commandant, 
"  I  walked  up  and  down  among  the  trees,  keeping  me 
eyes  glued  upon  the  dark  beyond,  and  thinking  what 
an  omathaum  I  was  to  expect  to  see  anythin'  there, 
with  the  night  that  black  you  could  cut  it  with  a 
knife,  and  even  a  witch's  cat  could  spy  nothin'  out  of 
it  —  Whin,  lo  and  behold!  I  heard  the  whisper  of  a 
sound  comin'  through  the  tangle  of  small  wood.  '  Ho, 
ho,  't  is  a  fox,'  says  I  to  meself,  '  or  a  thief  of  a  wolf. 
By  good  fortune  it  might  even  be  a  bear  cub  to  fur- 
nish a  breakfast  to  the  major,  with  a  bit  over  and 
above  for  the  men.'  Well,  I  let  fly  a  charge  of  bul- 
lets, thinking  it  safer  to  shoot  first  and  ask  an  explana- 
tion afterwards.  By  the  powers,  at  that  what  should 
arise  before  me  but  this  red  naiger,  with  his  hatchet 
upraised.  '  Me  last  moment  is  come,'  thought  I,  '  me 
shot  is  fired,  and  I  cannot  say  I  like  this  spalpeen's 
way  of  explainin'.  A  gun  is  a  gun  though,  even  if 
it  is  not  loaded,  and  the  red  naigers  have  much  re- 
spect for  the  same.' 

"  '  Your  're  me  prisoner,'  says  I,  thrustin'  me  blunder- 
buss into  his  face.  So  I  've  brought  him  to  you, 
sir." 

Despite  the  self-satisfaction  of  O'Desmond  over  his 
supposed  capture,  it  straightway  became  evident  that 
the  Indian  had  accompanied  him  not  as  a  captive  but 
as  an  ambassador. 

The  right  hand  of  the  savage  grasped  a  glittering 
tomahawk,  but  in  the  left  he  held  a  branch  of  por- 
celain which  he  offered  to  the  white  leader  as  an 
assurance  that  his  errand  was  one  of  peace.  The  re- 
doubtable wood-ranger  accepted  the  token  and  then 
inquired  through  his  interpreter, — 

"  Young  brave  who  are  you,  and  from  whom  do 
you  come  ?  " 


8         THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  I  come  from  my  father,"  answered  the  youth.  "  A 
band  of  warriors  attend  me." 

"  And  who,  by  all  the  manitous,  is  his  father?  "  ex- 
claimed Rogers,  sotto  voce. 

The  Indian  eyed  him  with  unflinching  coolness,  and, 
having  as  imperturbably  surveyed  the  group  of  armed 
men  who  surrounded  him,  proceeded  as  though  he 
had  understood  the  query. 

"  My  father  is  lord  of  all  this  country ;  he  forbids 
you  to  advance  further  into  his  territory  until  he  has 
had  speech  with  you." 

The  bluff  provincial  major  swore  under  his  breath. 
He  was  too  well  versed  in  a  knowledge  of  the  aborig- 
ines, however,  to  give  grave  offence  at  the  outset  to  a 
tribe  through  whose  country  he  was  struggling.  By 
means  of  the  half-breed  interpreter,  he  replied  with 
formal  ceremony,  and  in  the  picturesque  language  to 
which  the  Indian  was  accustomed, — 

"Son  of  the  Great  Chief!  We  will  gladly  hold 
council  with  your  father." 

"  To-morrow  at  sunset  he  will  come,"  announced 
the  youth  laconically.  And  therewith,  passing  boldly 
through  the  group  of  astonished  men  before  they 
could  stay  him  if  they  would,  he  vanished  amid  the 
darkness  as  mysteriously  as  he  had  appeared  in  the 
vicinity. 

The  aftermath  of  balmy  weather  called  by  the  pro- 
vincials the  Indian  summer,  and  by  the  French  the 
summer  of  St.  Martin,  was  now  passed.  The  next 
morning  was  cold  and  stormy.  It  would  have  been 
folly  to  set  forth  again  on  the  rough  lake.  Moreover, 
Rogers  decided  that,  however  annoying  to  his  pride 
as  a  British  officer,  it  was  the  better  part  of  valor 
to  await  the  interview  with  the  sachem,  whoever  he 
might  be. 


A    MEETING   IN  THE    WILDERNESS       9 

The  company  remained  encamped  on  the  margin 
of  the  river  all  that  day,  therefore,  the  woods  affording 
them  a  partial  shelter  from  the  rain.  In  the  afternoon, 
the  skies  began  to  change  from  a  dull  leaden  color  to 
a  softer  gray ;  then  the  wind  veered,  and  at  last,  like 
the  fateful  "  Chasse  Galere,"  the  spectral  aerial  bark 
so  dreaded  by  the  habitants  of  New  France,  the  light 
clouds  floated  away,  and  the  sun,  though  far  down  in 
the  west,  for  a  brief  space  shone  forth  as  with  a  new 
glory. 

It  was  the  time  appointed  by  the  mysterious  chief 
for  the  council,  and  the  white  men  held  themselves 
prepared  to  receive  him.  Before  long,  their  scouts 
brought  in  word  that  a  number  of  Indians  were  ad- 
vancing through  the  forest,  and  promptly  at  the  hour 
named  a  band  of  warriors  entered  the  camp. 

It  was  a  startling  picture.  On  one  side,  a  step  in 
advance  of  his  intrepid  followers,  waited  the  New 
Hampshire  wood-ranger,  Major  Rogers,  tall  and  heavy 
featured,  in  his  pioneer  dress  of  buckskin,  with  a  gun 
resting  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm  ;  and  facing  the  party 
were  ranged  the  lords  of  the  forest,  without  war 
paint,  but  still  impressive  in  their  tunics  of  buffalo 
pelts  and  gaudy  ornaments. 

Yet  the  keen  gaze  of  the  British  soldiers  took  small 
note  of  this  array,  for  their  attention  became  riveted 
upon  the  leader  of  the  redmen.  A  splendid  bronze 
figure,  with  flashing  eyes,  and  straight  flowing  hair 
crowned  with  eagles'  feathers,  as  he  stood  in  majestic 
dignity  against  the  disk  of  the  setting  sun,  he  might 
have  been  mistaken  by  a  superstitious  native  of  the 
wilderness  for  some  Indian  god ;  the  fierce  Kabibo- 
nokka,  or  Manabozho,  the  Great  Hare  Manitou,  the 
Hiawatha  of  the  Ottawas. 

"  How  is  it  that  the  white  chief  comes  into  my  ter- 


io       THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

ritory  without  invitation  or  permission? "  he  asked, 
stretching  forth  his  hand  as  regally  as  though  it  held 
a  sceptre.  "  Is  the  stranger's  mission  one  of  peace, 
or  war?  " 

When  his  words  had  been  interpreted,  Rogers 
replied,  — 

"  Great  Chief,  I  wish  to  be  no  longer  unknown  to 
you.  I  am  come  in  the  name  of  the  King  of  England 
to  take  possession  of  this  region." 

"This  is  my  country;  it  does  not  belong  to  your 
king,"  answered  the  sachem  in  haughty  protest.  "  To 
me  and  to  my  people  belong  all  the  lands  bordering 
upon  the  Lakes,  from  here  even  to  Michilimackinac, 
the  dwelling-place  of  the  Great  Spirit." 

"  We  have  not  come  to  take  your  hunting- 
grounds,"  answered  Rogers  calmly.  "  We  want  to 
trade  with  you,  as  we  trade  with  the  Iroquois  in  the 
east.  We  will  not  defraud  you  of  your  furs  as  do  the 
French." 

"But  the  Onontio  of  Montreal  and  Quebec?" 
queried  the  redman. 

"  Our  king  is  greater  than  all  the  Onontios  that 
ever  lived,  greater  than  the  King  of  France.  Our 
troops  have  conquered  those  of  the  French,  and 
received  their  submission  at  Montreal.  When  our 
people  come  to  settle  here  you  will  be  glad." 

The  interpreter  again  performed  his  office,  but  the 
chief  did  not  at  once  reply. 

At  length,  by  an  imperious  gesture  silencing  the 
murmurs  of  some  of  the  braves,  he  said,  again 
addressing  Rogers,  — 

"  White  man,  I  will  stand  in  your  path  until 
morning,  and  will  protect  you  from  harm.  At  day- 
light you  may  proceed  on  your  way."  Thereupon, 
gathering  his  blanket  about  his  shoulders  with  the 


A   MEETING   IN   THE   WILDERNESS     n 

air  of  an  emperor,  he  passed  into  the  wood,  followed 
by  his  escort,  and  all  were  soon  lost  sight  of  among 
the  shadows,  now  growing  deeper  at  the  approach  of 
the  early  November  twilight. 

Dazed  and  in  wonder,  the  soldiers  looked  at  one 
another,  some  half  believing  that  the  proud  warrior 
and  his  braves  were  not  living  men  at  all ;  others  in- 
clined to  jest  at  his  extravagant  pretensions. 

"  Zounds,  the  redskin  made  no  surrender  to  us. 
Instead,  he  has  taken  us  under  his  protection,  as 
though  he  were  the  commander  of  an  unconquerable 
army,"  cried  Rogers,  nonplussed  and  angry. 

"  I  would  give  up  a  guinea  to  know  how  his 
majesty  is  called,"  avowed  Sterling  rashly. 

"  A  second  Lucifer,  he  seemed  to  me,"  rejoined 
Captain  Campbell.  "  Could  one  imagine  a  haughtier 
bearing  even  in  a  fallen  archangel?" 

"  Shure,  't  is  the  devil  himself,"  O'Desmond  was  at 
the  same  time  declaring  to  his  comrades. 

"  In  truth,  it  is  better  to  have  this  strange  person- 
age for  a  friend  than  for  an  enemy,"  dryly  observed 
the  practical  Lieutenant  McDougal. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Rogers.  "  Though  I  prefer  a  good 
fray  to  the  r61e  of  diplomat,  we  have  been  wiser  to 
conciliate  this  red  king  of  the  forest  than  if  we  had 
continued  the  expedition  yesterday,  as  I  had  half  a 
mind  to  do,  notwithstanding  the  storm.  To-morrow 
we  will  take  to  the  boats  betimes  and  press  on.  The 
fort  of  the  strait  must  be  ours  by  the  end  of  the 
month." 


CHAPTER  SECOND 

STRANGERS   AT   LE   DETROIT 

THE  Moon  of  Beavers,  an  old  moon  now  and 
growing  pale,  looked  down  upon  a  strange 
commotion  at  the  isolated  military  post  of  Le  Detroit. 
As  the  night  died,  and.  the  light  of  morning  strength- 
ened, bringing  the  hour  of  reveille,  the  garrison, 
usually  so  listless  and  heavy  with  sleep  as  they 
turned  out  in  response  to  the  stern  call  of  trumpet  and 
drum,  were  wide  awake  and  eager,  as  though  under 
the  influence  of  some  extraordinary  excitement. 

The  people  of  the  rude  town,  too,  were  nearly 
every  one  astir,  both  those  who  lived  in  the  small 
bark-roofed  or  straw-thatched  houses  within  the  en- 
closure of  the  fort,  and  those  whose  homes  were 
along  the  river  bank,  each  dwelling  protected  by  a 
palisade  of  its  own. 

At  this  early  hour  of  the  morning,  the  habitants 
outside  the  stockade  flocked  to  the  gates  and  beat 
upon  them,  noisily  demanding  admittance  of  the  sen- 
try. Those  within,  traders,  voyageurs,  coureurs  de 
bois,  half-breeds,  and  Indians,  women  and  children, 
thronged  to  the  Place  d'Armes,  whereon  fronted  the 
barracks  and  the  quarters  of  the  officers. 

The  garrison  lined  up  for  morning  drill,  but  with  a 
cry  of  protest  the  populace  took  possession  of  the 
little  square. 

"  The  commandant !  Where  is  Monsieur  de  Bel- 
lestre?"  they  called,  in  French  of  course,  for  it  must 


STRANGERS   AT   LE   DETROIT          13 

be  understood  in  this  narrative  that  the  Canadians 
always  speak  in  their  own  language  unless  the  con- 
trary is  stated.  "Where  is  Monsieur  de  Bellestre? 
We  would  fain  have  some  explanation  of  this  report 
brought  in  during  the  night  by  Ottawa  runners." 

The  shouts  continued  and  increased  in  volume. 
The  disturbance  had  become  well-nigh  a  riot,  when 
the  door  of  the  commandant's  house  was  flung  open, 
and  there  strode  out  upon  the  gallery,  in  quick,  fear- 
less fashion,  a  handsome  man  of  about  forty  years  of 
age,  wearing  the  bright  blue  uniform  of  an  officer  of 
King  Louis,  his  three-cornered  hat  set  firmly  on  his 
head,  and  his  peruque  as  faultlessly  curled  and  pow- 
dered as  that  of  any  chevalier  in  the  army.  It  was 
Francois  Picote  de  Bellestre,  beloved  by  both  gar- 
rison and  townsmen  as  one  of  the  bravest  soldiers, 
one  of  the  most  courteous  gentlemen  of  New  France. 

"  People  of  Le  Detroit,  what  means  so  unseemly 
an  uprising?"  he  demanded  with  severity. 

"  This  news  !  "  they  reiterated  hoarsely.  "  Are  we 
to  see  our  lands  confiscated,  —  are  we  to  be  turned 
out  of  our  homes  and  cast  forth  into  the  wilderness? 
What  of  the  intelligence  that  our  foes  the  British  are 
approaching  to  take  possession  of  Le  Detroit?  " 

Monsieur  de  Bellestre  shrugged  a  shoulder.  "  Eh 
bien,  if  the  redcoats  come,  what  matters  it?  We  will 
but  send  them  home  again,"  he  said  with  easy  non- 
chalance. 

The  characteristic  gesture,  his  air  of  careless 
indifference,  did  more  to  reassure  the  volatile  people 
than  would  have  been  effected  by  a  long  harangue. 
A  wave  of  laughter  swept  through  the  square. 

"Ay,"  they  repeated  one  to  another  in  jocular 
humor,  "  we  will  send  the  redcoats  home  again,  even 
as  the  gallant  Beaujeau,  though  but  captain  of  a  gar- 


i4       THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

rison,  routed  their  generals  and  drove  leaders  and 
troops  back  over  the  border,  only  five  years  since." 

"  But  the  savages,"  cried  the  sharp  voice  of  old 
Campeau,  "  will  the  savages  side  with  us  now,  or  will 
they  go  over  to  the  English?" 

"  Concern  yourselves  not  upon  that  score,  good 
friends,"  answered  De  Bellestre  with  official  dignity ; 
"  your  commandant  has  issued  a  proclamation  to  the 
redmen.  Go  and  read  it,  where  it  hangs  upon  the 
forest  gate  of  the  palisade." 

So  saying,  he  turned  upon  his  heel  and  passed 
again  into  the  house,  while,  satisfied  for  the  nonce 
and  with  curiosity  aflame,  the  vociferating  townfolk 
trooped  away  to  the  gate.  There  they  encountered 
the  crowd  outside,  —  a  company  of  merry-makers  now, 
who  roared  with  mirth  and  cracked  many  jests  at  the 
expense  of  the  British,  as  they  viewed  the  clever 
notification  to  the  Indian  allies  of  the  French.  For 
De  Bellestre  had  caused  to  be  hung  up  on  the  pickets 
a  wide  strip  of  buffalo  hide,  whereon  was  roughly 
painted  the  figure  of  a  crow  pecking  at  a  man's 
head. 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha !  The  redskins  themselves  could  do 
no  better  at  picture-writing,"  mirthfully  exclaimed 
Antoine  Cuillerier,  half-brother  to  the  commandant, 
as  his  glance  fell  upon  the  glaring  effigy.  "  'T  is 
plain  as  the  nose  on  one's  face  that  the  crow  is  De 
Bellestre,  who,  with  a  single  blow,  will  destroy  these 
daring  southerns  if  they  presume  to  come  so  far  into 
the  wilds  of  New  France." 

"Did  I  not  say  well?"  he  continued  to  his  neigh- 
bor Charles  Parant,  as  a  yell  broke  from  a  party  of 
Ottawas  who  now  bore  down  upon  the  fort  "  The 
enemy  will  not  find  that  whoop  pleasant  to  their  ears, 
I  will  risk  a  pelt  on  the  surmise." 


STRANGERS   AT   LE    DETROIT         15 

Nevertheless,  that  the  English  were  at  least  coming, 
Le  Detroit  had  evidence  the  same  day.  Soon  after 
noon,  a  sentry-call  from  the  bastion  that  overlooked 
the  river  gave  notice  of  the  approach  of  a  canoe 
from  the  direction  of  the  Lake  of  the  Eries,  —  a 
canoe  bearing  a  white  flag. 

The  officer  of  the  guard  watched  it  curiously 
through  his  lenses ;  a  squad  of  soldiers  were  ordered 
to  the  water-gate,  to  form  an  escort  for  the  stranger 
envoy,  and  the  inhabitants,  including  wives  and 
maidens,  thronged  to  the  strand  in  a  fever  of  im- 
patience to  learn  with  what  intelligence  this  little 
craft  might  be  freighted. 

"  Bah,  they  are  but  a  party  of  coureur  de  bois," 
ejaculated  Baptiste  Meloche. 

When  the  canoe  came  up  to  the  landing-place, 
however,  the  spectators  at  the  water's  edge  saw  that, 
although  the  visitors  were  garbed  like  English  wood- 
rangers,  their  leader  wore  a  sword  belt,  and  as  he 
stepped  ashore  he  rested  his  hand  upon  the  golden 
hilt  of  a  heavy  sabre,  whose  burnished  scabbard  glis- 
tened in  the  sunlight. 

"  A  likely  officer,  but,  mon  Dieu,  the  other  with  him 
can  have  seen  scarce  more  than  three  and  twenty 
years,"  whispered  pretty  Angelique  Cuillerier,  the  rich 
trader's  daughter,  to  her  friend,  the  young  wife  of 
Jacques  Godefroy.  "  Truly,  the  British  are  well-look- 
ing. T  is  sad  to  see  them  sent  here  to  serve  as  targets 
for  our  soldiers,  or  else  to  lose  their  scalps  to  the  sav- 
ages ;  they  are  worthy  of  a  different  fate." 

"  Ay,  ay,"  rejoined  Clotilde  Godefroy,  nee  Chapo- 
ton,  with  a  light  laugh,  as  she  slyly  pinched  the  round 
arm  of  her  companion.  "  It  were  better  they  should 
fall  victims  to  the  charms  of  the  belle  of  Le  Detroit, 
and  be  slain  by  her  bright  glances,  no  doubt.  Tee, 


16       THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

why  do  you  shake  off  my  hand,  Angelique  ?  Were 
I  not  married,  I  might  also  grow  tender-hearted  at 
sight  of  these  handsome  strangers.  Indeed,  I  fear  my 
Jacques  will  not  like  it  overmuch  that  I  have  run 
out  to  see  the  brave  showing  they  make.  He  is  ever 
wont  to  say  that  the  people  of  position  in  the  town, 
the  descendants  of  those  who  obtained  their  lands 
from  the  Sieur  de  Cadillac,  should  hold  somewhat 
aloof  from  the  newcomers,  and  keep  in  their  houses 
when  others  rush  out  to  watch  the  sights  and  gather 
news.  But,  misericorde !  it  would  be  dull  were  I  at 
home  and  all  this  going  on.  Besides,  it  would  not  be 
fitting  for  me  to  leave  a  maid  like  you  alone  in  this 
motley  gathering,  Angelique,  my  dear.  How  is  it 
your  father  did  not  bid  you  remain  within  doors  ?  " 

"In  truth  he  did  enjoin  me  not  to  come  beyond 
the  wicket  of  our  own  palisade,"  responded  Angelique 
coolly,  "  but  let  us  make  haste !  If  we  delay  thus, 
discussing  the  wisdom  of  our  elders,  we  shall  neither 
hear  nor  see  what  goes  on  at  the  Place  d'Armes." 

That  little  squib  about  their  elders  was  "  good  cat, 
good  rat"  (tit  for  tat)  for  Clotilde's  pinch;  for  Gode- 
froy,  a  fine  fellow  whose  age  a  glance  at  the  parish 
register  would  have  shown  to  be  thirty-eight,  was 
some  twenty  years  older  than  his  wife,  and  had  been 
a  widower  when  he  married  her.  On  this  account, 
she  was,  on  occasion,  twitted  by  the  merry  demoi- 
selles, the  companions  of  her  girlhood ;  yet  more  than 
one,  perhaps,  envied  her  good  fortune. 

In  the  present  instance,  however,  Clotilde  let  the 
jest  pass.  She  did  not  believe  Angelique  to  be 
jealous  of  her  because  she  had  obtained  a  happy 
settlement  in  life,  since  the  beauty  had  ever  a  string 
of  cavaliers  from  among  whom  to  choose  a  bride- 
groom. But,  although  Jacques  often  averred  that, 


STRANGERS   AT   LE    DETROIT         17 

before  he  led  Clotilde  to  the  altar,  he  had  not  been 
one  of  those  who  hung  upon  the  smiles  of  her  capri- 
cious friend,  she  was  content  that  Angelique  should 
consider  her  husband  as  old  and  staid  as  it  might 
please  her  to  do.  Clotilde  was  blessed  with  a  fair 
measure  of  sense  for  one  who  had  not  passed  her 
nineteenth  birthday. 

When  the  two  girls  arrived  at  the  square  it  pre- 
sented an  animated  scene,  being  thronged  with  an 
eager  multitude.  The  red  caps,  blanket  coats,  and 
bright  sashes  of  the  coureurs  de  bois,  the  fine  fur 
capotes  of  the  merchants,  the  deerskin  apparel, 
fringed  and  embroidered  with  beads,  worn  by  the 
voyageurs,  the  gay  jupes  and  head-dresses  of  the 
women,  and  the  blue  uniforms  of  the  garrison,  made 
a  picture  of  varied  coloring. 

The  door  of  the  commandant's  house  stood  ajar, 
and  the  great  fire  of  forest  logs  burning  in  the  wide 
chimney  of  the  council  room,  to  the  right  of  the  nar- 
row hallway,  so  lighted  the  interior  that  the  outlines 
of  the  carved  chair  of  state  brought  from  Montreal 
could  be  distinctly  seen. 

Monsieur  de  Bellestre,  with  the  courtliness  that 
distinguished  him,  had  come  forth  to  greet  the  en- 
voys, thinking  perchance  they  were  sent  to  treat  with 
him  for  the  exchange  of  prisoners,  since  two  or  three 
southerns  had  been  held  as  hostages  in  the  town  from 
the  days  of  Braddock's  defeat. 

"  See,  the  ambassadors  have  well-nigh  reached  the 
house,"  whispered  Angelique,  as,  in  a  fever  of  excite- 
ment that  lent  an  added  glow  to  her  cheeks,  she 
dragged  the  more  sedate  Madame  Godefroy  forward. 
A  young  voyageur,  whose  politeness  was  augmented 
by  their  comeliness,  with  a  merry  word  made  way  for 
them,  and  presently  they  had  gained  an  excellent 


18       THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

point  of  vantage,  where  they  could  hear  as  well  as 
observe  all  that  went  on. 

The  two  strangers  who  seemed  to  occupy  posi- 
tions of  authority  had  now  stepped  upon  the  gal- 
lery, leaving  their  little  guard  of  un-uniformed  men 
below. 

"  Monsieur  de  Bellestre  ? "  interrogatively  said  he 
who  wore  the  heavy  sword,  as  he  saluted  the  French 
officer  with  formal  courtesy. 

"  I  am  Monsieur  de  Bellestre,"  returned  the  com- 
mandant graciously,  by  a  wave  of  the  hand  inviting 
them  to  enter  the  house. 

But,  at  a  sign  from  his  companion,  the  other  of  the 
newcomers  came  forward. 

"  Monsieur  de  Bellestre,"  he  began  in  French, 
"  this  gentleman,  Monsieur  Campbell,  captain  in  the 
service  of  his  Majesty,  King  George  of  England,  hav- 
ing been  commissioned  to  present  to  you  certain 
communications,  has  selected  me  to  be  his  interpre- 
ter. He  judges  from  your  evident  unpreparedness 
that  our  appearance  here  is  a  surprise  to  you,  and 
therefore  would  not  take  advantage  of  your  courteous 
invitation  to  pass  beneath  your  roof  without  warning 
you  that  he  is  the  bearer  of  intelligence  that  will  be 
in  no  wise  pleasing  to  you.  Nevertheless,  it  were 
better  this  message  should  be  delivered  in  the  seclu- 
sion of  the  council  room." 

The  commandant  bowed  with  hauteur. 

"Accept  my  thanks  for  your  consideration,  mon- 
sieur," he  said  satirically.  "  You  have  my  leave  to 
state  your  mission  here  before  all  the  people  of  Le 
Detroit.  If  of  importance  to  me,  it  is  of  much  more 
moment  to  them." 

As  he  looked  across  the  square,  the  sea  of  expec- 
tant faces  told  him  that  the  multitude  would  not  await 


STRANGERS   AT   LE    DETROIT          19 

calmly  the  result  of  a  conference  with  closed  doors. 
The  liberty-loving  French-Canadians  of  the  strait 
could  not  always  be  governed  according  to  the  rigid 
rules  of  civil  or  military  etiquette  that  obtained  in 
Montreal  and  Quebec. 

"  The  youth  essays  to  speak  French  ;  but  parbleu  ! 
heard  any  one  ever  such  an  accent  ?  "  exclaimed  An- 
gelique  in  a  low  voice,  as  she  hid  her  laughing  face 
on  Clotilde's  shoulder. 

"  Chut !  would  you  expect  a  barbarian  to  speak  as 
one  but  now  out  from  the  court  of  Versailles  ?  "  re- 
sponded her  friend.  "  He  does  not  ill,  to  my  think- 
ing; though,  to  be  sure,  compared  to  the  readiness 
wherewith  my  Jacques  speaks  the  language  of  the 
British  —  " 

Angelique  laughed  again.  Godefroy's  monosyl- 
labic knowledge,  picked  up  from  a  trader  at  Montreal 
and  a  prisoner  at  the  fort,  although  regarded  with  re- 
spect by  his  confreres,  sounded  to  her  shrewd  ears 
little  like  the  speech  of  the  southerns.  She  speedily 
forgave  the  stranger  interpreter  his  flat  vowels,  how- 
ever, for  he  certainly  was  a  pleasing  representative  of 
young  manhood,  as  he  stood  before  the  commandant, 
his  strong,  well-knit  frame  shown  to  advantage  by  his 
civilian's  garb  of  brown. 

"  Which  like  you  better  —  this  one  or  the  other  ?  " 
queried  the  irrepressible  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  of 
her  youthful  chaperon. 

"  The  other  is  taller,  and  of  more  commanding 
presence,"  hazarded  Madame  Clotilde. 

"  Bah,  he  is  pompous  and  over-robust  ;  fine  of 
feature,  perhaps,  and  amiable,  but  of  too  rubicond  a 
complexion,  and  his  hair  is  touched  with  gray," 
argued  the  coquette.  "  Now,  this  one  has  an  agree- 
able carriage,  and  the  red  that  burns  upon  his  smooth- 


20       THE    HEROINE    OF    THE    STRAIT 

shaven  cheek  is  like  the  blush  on  the  Normandy 
apples  of  good  Father  Potier  across  the  river." 

"  Fi  done,  Angelique  !  to  compare  the  visage  of  a 
heretic  to  the  fruit  of  the  toil  of  the  holy  father,  the 
matchless  '  pommes  de  neige  '  which  grow  nowhere  so 
well  as  in  the  enclosure  of  the  Jesuit  Mission,"  cried 
Clotilde  in  horror. 

"  Misericorde !  the  apples  are  not  holy  because 
they  grow  in  the  orchard  of  a  holy  man,"  rejoined 
Angelique,  with  a  toss  of  the  head  ;  "  and  how  do 
you  know  the  stranger  is  a  heretic  ?  Mayhap  he  got 
his  faith  where  he  learned  his  French ;  though,  if  't  is 
no  better  than  his  French,  I  pray  le  bon  Dieu  to 
have  mercy  on  him.  But  do  you  not  like  the  glint 
his  brown  hair  has  in  the  sunshine,  and  —  " 

"  It  matters  not  to  me  whether  his  hair  be  tawny, 
black  as  an  Ottawa's,  or  crisp  like  that  of  the  Ethi- 
opians brought  in  the  slave  ships  from  Africa,"  an- 
swered Clotilde  indifferently. 

"  Of  a  verity  I  am  glad  I  am  not  married !  "  said 
Angelique,  with  a  sigh  of  content,  as  she  pressed  a 
trifle  farther  to  the  fore  of  the  spectators. 

The  encircling  arm  of  the  youthful  matron  quickly 
drew  her  back. 

"  Have  a  care,  cherie,"  pleaded  Clotilde  anxiously, 
"  or  your  uncle,  Monsieur  de  Bellestre,  will  notice 
you ;  and,  later,  your  father  will  chide  you  for  min- 
gling with  the  crowd.  Also,  there  is  Godefroy  on  the 
other  side  of  the  square.  If  he  catches  sight  of  us,  he 
will  make  his  way  hither,  in  dread  lest  we  meet  with 
rude  speech;  then  I  must  needs  carry  myself  more 
sedately,  and  there  will  be  an  end  of  this  innocent 
frolic  with  you,  sweet  one.  Also,  be  silent,  I  pray, 
else  how  shall  we  hear  the  news?  " 

Meantime,  Mr.  Campbell  had  begun  and  finished  a 


STRANGERS    AT    LE    DETROIT          21 

long  address  to  Monsieur  de  Bellestre  in  the  English 
language,  whereof  no  one,  save  possibly  Jacques 
Godefroy,  understood  so  much  as  a  single  word. 
But  now  the  interpreter  again  took  up  his  task,  and 
all  in  the  throng  bent  their  ears  to  listen. 

"  Monsieur  de  Bellestre,"  he  proceeded,  handing  to 
the  commandant  a  paper  which  the  captain  passed 
over  to  him,  "  this  is  the  text  of  the  document  that 
the  officer  of  his  Majesty  has  anon  read  to  you.  To 
it  I  add  the  translation  duly  written  out.  It  is,  you 
will  see,  a  letter  from  Major  Rogers,  who  was  deputed 
by  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst  to  ascend  the  Lakes.  He  is 
arrived  at  the  mouth  of  Le  Detroit,  and  herewith 
sends  due  notice  of  his  coming  to  you,  as  command- 
ant, and  to  the  settlers  at  Fort  Pontchartrain." 

"  Eh  bien,  what  care  I  or  the  people  of  Fort  Pont- 
chartrain for  the  vicinity  of  your  Major  Rogers," 
returned  De  Bellestre  haughtily,  "  except  that  it 
behooves  us  to  give  him  a  warm  reception?" 

At  his  scornful  words  a  cheer,  followed  by  a  chorus 
of  laughter,  broke  from  the  crowd. 

A  frown  of  anger  gathered  upon  the  brow  of  the 
captain.  He  disdained  even  to  look  toward  the 
clamorous  rabble ;  but  Sterling's  clear  eyes  swept 
over  the  enthusiastic  throng  with  a  glance  commiser- 
ative of  their  ignorance  of  the  true  state  of  affairs. 

"  Monsieur  de  Bellestre,"  he  said  quietly,  "  it  is 
manifest  you  have  not  been  informed  that  the  power 
of  the  French  is  at  an  end  in  the  north.  Montreal 
has  fallen.  Some  two  months  since  the  Marquis  de 
Vaudreuil  surrendered  Canada  and  all  its  dependencies 
to  the  troops  of  King  George." 

For  a  moment  De  Bellestre  stood  motionless,  as 
though  turned  to  stone.  Had  he  been  called  upon 
to  combat  singly  for  his  country,  like  Horatius  of 


22       THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

old,  or  to  lay  down  his  life  for  New  France,  his  noble 
heart  would  not  for  an  instant  have  quailed.  But  to 
be  told  of  her  humiliation,  and  yet  be  unable  to  bid 
his  sword  leap  forth  for  her  defence ;  to  listen  to  such 
news  and  not  run  through  the  body  the  man  who  had 
the  temerity  to  bring  it ! 

The  cry  of  rage  and  incredulity  that  burst  from  the 
populace  aroused  him. 

"Sir  envoys,  do  not  try  my  forbearance  too  far,"  he 
threatened  in  wrath.  "  Depart  with  your  men.  I 
would  not  wreck  upon  you  the  consequences  of  my 
just  indignation,  and  the  anger  of  the  people  of  Le 
Detroit  because  of  the  trick  that  Major  Rogers  and 
this  Sir  Amherst  have  sought  to  play  upon  them." 

"  But,  Sir  Commandant,"  protested  Sterling,  "  you 
cannot  be  ignorant  of  the  fall  of  Louisbourg,  Quebec, 
Niagara,  and  Fort  Frontenac?  " 

"  And  if  these  good  fortresses  have  been  compelled 
by  the  hardships  of  long  sieges  to  yield  to  the  force 
of  your  superior  numbers,"  admitted  De  Bellestre 
unwillingly,  "  when  spring  comes  again  we  shall  win 
them  back  for  his  Majesty  Louis  the  Fifteenth." 

"  Sir,  the  articles  of  capitulation  are  signed,"  inter- 
posed the  captain  hotly.  "  Major  Rogers  brings  with 
him  not  only  a  copy  of  this  document,  but  a  letter  to 
you  from  the  Marquis  de  Vaudreuil,  late  Governor  of 
the  provinces  hitherto  known  as  New  France,  direct- 
ing you,  as  commandant,  to  deliver  over  this  post  to 
my  chief,  in  accordance  with  the  terms  agreed  upon 
between  Monsieur  de  Vaudreuil  and  General  Am- 
herst" 

When  Sterling  had  duly  translated  this  speech,  Mon- 
sieur de  Bellestre  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height. 

"  Messieurs,"  he  said,  "  tell  your  commandant  I  am 
not  to  be  decoyed  by  any  ruse  of  war.  Louisbourg 


STRANGERS   AT   LE    DETROIT         23 

may  have  fallen ;  Quebec  may  have  fallen,  and  even 
Montreal;  but  if  one  military  post  of  New  France 
remains  to  King  Louis,  it  shall  be  the  fort  of  Le 
Detroit.  My  soldiers  and  I  will  struggle  on  to  vic- 
tory or  death  under  the  banner  of  the  fleur-de-lis. 
Go,  you  have  my  answer." 

Cheer  upon  cheer  from  both  the  soldiers  and  towns- 
people greeted  his  spirited  words.  To  them  neither 
the  captain  nor  Sterling  made  response.  Having  exe- 
cuted the  commission  whereon  they  had  been  sent, 
they  saluted  in  silence,  and,  although  they  had  with 
them  but  six  or  eight  men,  fearlessly  marched  through 
the  menacing  assemblage  of  French-Canadians,  es- 
corted by  the  squad  of  soldiers  whose  hostility  was 
restrained  only  by  military  discipline.  Even  when 
they  had  embarked,  and  the  boatmen  pushed  out 
from  the  beach,  the  irate  inhabitants  stood  upon  the 
strand,  shaking  their  fists  at  the  strangers,  and  calling 
after  them  in  terms  of  imprecation  and  derision. 

The  following  forenoon,  however,  Major  Rogers 
sent  up  to  the  fort,  by  Captain  Campbell,  the  papers 
in  whose  existence  De  Bellestre  had  scorned  to  be- 
lieve, and  the  gallant  commandant  and  knight  of 
the  Order  of  St.  Louis  was  forced  to  declare  himself 
and  his  garrison  at  the  disposal  of  the  English  con- 
querors, without  so  much  as  striking  a  blow  for  the 
cause  of  New  France. 

The  twenty-ninth  of  November,  1760,  was  a  fair, 
clear  day.  A  light  snow  lay  upon  the  meadows  and 
lent  a  new  foliage  to  the  forests ;  the  broad  river  was 
still  free  of  ice,  save  at  the  margins,  and  the  sun  shone 
in  glory  upon  the  blue  waters  and  white  fields.  Yet 
the  gladness  of  Nature  brought  no  joy  to  Fort  Pont- 
chartrain.  With  angry  hearts  and  grave  faces,  the 
soldiers  of  the  garrison  and  the  people  of  the  colony 


24       THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

watched  the  long  boats  of  the  New  Hampshire 
rangers  coming  slowly  up  against  the  current,  be- 
tween the  prairie  margins  of  Le  Detroit.  Nearer 
they  came,  past  marsh  and  woodland,  and  the  small 
white  farmhouses  of  the  habitants  on  either  shore, 
on  the  right  side  leaving  behind  them  the  village1 
of  the  Hurons,  and  on  the  left  the  settlement  of  the 
Pottawattomies.  On  they  came,  until  they  arrived 
opposite  to  the  bark-roofed  town  above  which  the 
standard  of  France  was  still  proudly  flying,  while 
to  the  sorrowing  Canadians  within  the  palisade  the 
sunbeams  seemed  reverently  to  kiss  the  folds  of  the 
white  banner,  and  the  north  wind  to  flaunt  it  in 
the  faces  of  the  victors. 

Landing  on  the  south  bank  of  the  river,  the  rangers 
pitched  their  tents  upon  the  frozen  prairie,  and  Major 
Rogers,  with  Captain  Campbell  and  a  small  escort, 
crossed  the  strait  to  take  possession  of  the  post. 

With  roll  of  tambours  and  a  salute  of  guns,  the 
golden  fleur-de-lis,  never  before  lowered  at  Fort 
Pontchartrain  to  conqueror,  civilized  or  savage,  sank 
slowly  from  the  flagstaff,  never  more  to  wave  over 
Le  Detroit.  Sadly  the  dauntless  little  garrison  de- 
filed out  of  the  gates  of  the  fort,  and  laid  down  their 
arms. 

To  triumphant  music  of  drum  and  flageolet,  the 
British  marched  in,  and  the  crimson  ensign  of 
St.  George  was  raised  aloft,  while  the  Indians,  until 
now  the  allies  of  the  French,  quickly  transferring  their 
allegiance,  greeted  the  new  government  with  a  wild 
shout  of  congratulation,  and  their  late  friends  with 
yells  of  derision. 

"A  memorable  day  this  has  been,"  exclaimed 
Major  Rogers,  as,  having  supped  with  his  official 
family  in  the  house  of  Monsieur  de  Bellestre,  he 


STRANGERS   AT   LE    DETROIT          25 

sat  with  Captain  Campbell  before  the  fire  of  the 
council  room;  for  the  late  commandant,  being  on 
parole,  had  withdrawn  to  the  house  of  his  half-brother 
Cuillerier. 

"  A  memorable  day  !  Yet,  zounds,  there  had  been 
more  honor  in  fighting  out  the  quarrel  with  this 
French  commandant.  He  would  have  made  a  gal- 
lant resistance,  by  the  manitou  of  the  strait,  and  these 
treaty  surrenders  are  but  tame  affairs." 

"  To  my  thinking,  the  Northwest  has  a  most  rude 
gateway,"  laughed  the  captain  jovially.  "  There  has 
been  overmuch  ado  about  a  weatherbeaten  palisade 
and  scarce  a  hundred  houses." 

Lieutenant  McDougal,  who,  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  room,  was  engaged  in  burnishing  his  sword, 
nodded  assent  but  said  nothing. 

Sterling,  too,  was  silent.  He  had  seated  himself 
upon  a  settle  in  a  shadowed  corner,  apart  from  the 
major  and  the  captain,  that  his  presence  might  not 
be  a  constraint  upon  them  if  they  chose  to  con- 
verse in  low  tones  regarding  the  happenings  of  the 
day.  Now  lighting  his  pipe,  he  took  to  abstractedly 
studying  the  fire.  Although  in  the  camp  of  the  con- 
querors to-night  at  Fort  Pontchartrain,  he  had  a 
curious  sense  that  he  was  in  truth  less  victor  than  van- 
quished. Amid  his  recollections  of  the  hubbub  and 
excitement  of  the  English  entrance  into  the  little  town, 
the  cheers  of  Rogers'  rangers,  the  mutterings  of  the 
inhabitants,  the  many  visages  bent  upon  him  as  he 
marched  in  with  the  troops,  visages  sad  or  frowning, 
bronze  or  pale,  feminine  or  fierce,  there  arose  before 
him  the  frightened  face  of  a  girl. 

For  a  moment  a  pair  of  appealing  black  eyes  met 
his.  Then  their  owner  recoiled,  a  look  of  pride  flitted 
pver  her  charming  features,  and,  snatching  at  a  curl 


26       THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

of  the  soft  dark  hair  that  hung  loose  about  her 
shoulders,  she  drew  it  across  her  brow  like  a  veil; 
while,  with  a  vague  longing  to  see  those  eyes  again, 
he  had  passed  on. 

"  Larron,  who  is  the  most  beautiful  demoiselle  of 
Le  Detroit  ?  "  the  young  Scotchman  asked  the  next 
morning  with  affected  carelessness,  of  an  obsequious 
coureur  de  bois,  who,  since  resistance  was  useless, 
had  hastened  to  take  service  with  the  new  masters  of 
the  fort. 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  it  is  without  a  doubt  Mademoiselle 
Angelique  Cuillerier,  the  niece  of  Monsieur  de 
Bellestre,"  replied  Larron  readily.  "  I  have  heard 
our  French  officers  say  there  is  not  a  '  grande  dame ' 
of  Montreal  or  Quebec  but  might  envy  her  beauty. 
Yet  the  lady  is  not  like  to  be  soon  seen  abroad  now; 
her  father  loves  not  the  British,  —  pardon,  monsieur, 
—  and  she  will,  I  dare  say,  remain  closely  indoors  for 
some  time  to  come." 

Sterling  smiled  quietly. 

"  I  have  seen  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier,"  he  said  to 
himself. 


CHAPTER  THIRD 

"HEIGH-HO,   FOR  A   DANCING  FROCK" 

THE  home  of  Antoine  Cuillerier  was  outside  of 
the  fort.  For  years  he  had  been  on  terms  of 
friendship  with  the  Indian  chiefs  of  all  the  region 
of  the  strait.  His  coureurs  de  bois  traversed  the 
forest  in  every  direction;  his  boatmen  paddled  the 
river  and  coursed  along  the  shores  of  Lake  Ste.  Claire 
and  far  away,  trading  for  furs  with  the  redmen,  and 
supplying  them  in  exchange  with  guns  and  hatchets, 
blankets,  scarlet  cloth,  eau  de  vie,  beads,  paints,  and 
hawks'  bells.  When  the  sachems  came  to  the  settle- 
ment they  ate  at  his  table,  and  sometimes  slept  at 
night  before  his  hearth-fire. 

Having  no  fear  of  the  savages,  therefore,  and  may- 
hap wishing  to  be  freer  for  purposes  of  barter,  he 
had  settled  beyond  the  palisade,  like  several  rival 
"commerc.ant  voyageurs."  Antoine's  farm,  like  all 
those  of  Le  Detroit,  stretched  far  back  into  the  forest 
but  had  only  a  narrow  frontage  on  the  river.  Thus, 
he  was  not  isolated  from  his  fellows.  Campeau's 
house  was  but  a  short  distance  away,  and  the  news 
of  the  town  was  frequently  transmitted  to  him  by  his 
friends,  and  passed  on  by  him  to  Casse  St.  Aubin, 
Campeau,  Parant  and  Meloche,  simply  by  each  in 
turn  calling  it  to  his  neighbor  along  the  whole  "  c6te 
du  nord."  Even  when  Dame  Godefroy  below  the 
fort  wished  to  inform  her  dear  friend  Angelique  that 
her  godchild,  the  Godefroy  firstborn,  had  cut  a  tooth 


28       THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

or  taken  his  first  steps  on  the  pathway  of  life;  or 
when  Madame  des  Ruisseaux,  sister-in-law  of  the 
late  commandant,  Monsieur  de  Bellestre,  desired  to 
ask  her  charming  young  relative  to  an  assembly  at 
her  house  within  the  stockade,  —  the  invitation  and 
the  weighty  intelligence  were  in  the  same  manner 
conveyed  by  word  of  mouth  along  the  river  bank. 

The  house  of  Cuillerier,  built  of  squared  logs  and 
clapboarded,  was  one  story  high,  but  in  the  long 
sloping  roof  was  an  additional  half-story,  which  re- 
ceived light  and  air  chiefly  from  two  dormer  windows 
on  the  front.  The  main  door  was  painted  green  and 
divided  horizontally  in  the  centre,  the  upper  section 
being  kept  open  in  fair  weather  and  the  lower  part 
closed,  lest  perchance  some  vagrant  fowl,  guinea 
pig,  or  mongrel  cur,  straying  from  the  roadway  that 
followed  the  margin  of  the  river,  might  find  refuge  in 
the  dwelling.  Indeed  once,  when  Angelique  was  a 
child,  this  door  being  inadvertently  left  ajar,  a  roving 
bear  cub  had  crept  in  and  awakened  the  drowsy  little 
maid  from  an  afternoon's  slumber  in  the  hearthroom, 
by  poking  his  inquisitive  nose  into  her  pretty  face. 

The  building  was  covered  with  a  coat  of  whitewash, 
and  across  the  road  was  a  small  wharf,  supported  by 
stakes  driven  into  the  marsh.  To  this  point  the  Pani 
women  slaves  came  to  fill  the  birch-bark  buckets  with 
water  for  use  in  the  menage.  Here,  too,  was  tied  the 
canoe,  so  indispensable  in  fishing  and  trapping,  and 
as  a  means  of  getting  down  to  the  fort  in  the  spring- 
time when  the  road  was  bad,  or  in  summer  when  it 
was  hot.  Within  doors  there  were  several  small 
apartments  beyond  the  hearthroom,  and  from  it  a 
ladder-like  stair  ascended  to  the  loft,  where  Ange- 
lique had  chosen  a  corner  for  herself.  Often,  during 
the  leisure  hours  of  a  summer's  day,  with  the  river 


"HEIGH-HO,  FOR  A  DANCING  FROCK"    29 

breezes  blowing  in  at  the  window,  or  in  winter  when 
the  heat  from  the  hearth  below  tempered  the  air 
above  to  a  pleasant  warmth,  here  in  her  nest  under 
the  eaves  she  spent  many  happy  hours  and  planned 
many  splendid  "  castles  in  Spain." 

Here  she  might  have  been  found  one  balmy  after- 
noon in  the  early  part  of  September,  1761,  seated 
near  the  recess  of  one  of  the  dormers,  before  a  plain 
chest  of  drawers,  a  testimony  to  the  rude  skill  of  the 
town  carpenter.  The  young  girl  had  pulled  open 
one  of  the  drawers,  and  was  critically  inspecting  its 
contents. 

"  Ma  foi,  the  result  might  be  better,"  she  said  to 
herself,  with  a  laugh,  half  of  fondness  for  the  feminine 
frippery  about  whose  folds  lingered  recollections 
sweet  as  the  fragrance  of  the  withered  little  prairie 
roses  strewn  among  the  simple  finery,  half  in  disap- 
pointment that  the  gewgaws  necessary  for  a  "  grande 
toilette "  had  already  been  worn  many  times,  at  the 
informal  levees  at  the  stockade  or  the  f£te-day  danc- 
ing parties  given  at  the  homes  of  her  kinsfolk  and 
acquaintance. 

"  Helas,  this  jupe  will  never  more  make  a  brave 
showing,"  she  sighed,  shaking  out  a  skirt  of  red  gauzy 
stuff;  "  that  rent  is  past  all  mending.  I  got  it  at 
Dame  St.  Aubin's  birthday  f£te  when  I  danced  a 
gavotte  with  Robishe  Navarre.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  cannot 
but  laugh  when  I  recall  the  merry  romp  !  And  that 
bodice,  —  misericorde,  like  our  old  dog  Trouveur,  it 
has  seen  its  best  days.  This  other  which  was  sent 
to  me  from  Quebec  by  my  cousin  is  well  enough, 
but,  having  been  made  for  her,  by  ill-luck  it  is  small 
for  me,  and  will  not  meet  at  the  waist.  Now  this  blue 
petticoat  might  serve ;  also,  I  could  make  for  my- 
self a  bodice  out  of  the  red  jupe,  with  a  sash  of  the 


30      THE   HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

same.  .  This  string  of  corals  is  fair  enough  to  set  off 
even  a  plainer  costume,  though  I  have  worn  it  a 
hundred  times.  And  the  little  lace  handkerchief, — 
phoufif,  Robishe  Navarre  stole  the  handkerchief  for  a 
keepsake !  Well,  there  are  the  lace  mittens.  Helas, 
Monsieur  Sterling  kept  one  of  the  mittens  as  a 
souvenir  of  our  t£te-a-t£te  in  the  moonlight  on  the 
gala  night  at  the  fort.  Mon  Dieu,  did  the  gallants 
but  know  of  the  annoyance  they  put  me  to  by  pos- 
sessing themselves  of  these  bits  of  my  belongings,  to 
wear  next  their  hearts,  —  so  they  say  !  'T  is  verily 
provoking.  I  have  scarce  a  bright  riband  left,  never 
a  shoulder  knot  nor  a  rosette ;  but  the  mitten  is  a 
serious  loss.  'T  was  most  audacious  of  this  Monsieur 
James  Sterling  thus  to  make  off  with  it.  I  must  see 
that  he  pays  dear  for  the  theft.  What  is  to  be  done 
with  the  other?  Shall  I  go  to  the  ball  wearing  one 
mitten  —  so?  " 

With  a  pout  she  stretched  forth  her  hands  and 
contemplated  them  in  comic  despair,  one  half  hid- 
den, save  for  the  finger-tips,  by  the  dainty  white 
lace,  the  other  shapely  and  dimpled,  if  a  little  brown, 
like  her  rich  olive  complexion,  and  showing  a  strength 
that  could  guide  the  home  loom  or  paddle  a  canoe 
with  skill.  "  Does  not  this  Scotch  monsieur  know 
that  a  demoiselle  at  Le  Detroit  is  fortunate  if  she 
possesses  one  pair  of  lace  mittens  for  the  evening? 
Fortunate  am  I  that  at  our  f£tes  they  are  regarded 
only  as  an  addition  to  the  costume,  '  a  bit  of  pride,' 
as  Tante  Josette  says.  Parbleu,  I  must  have  a  care, 
or  presently  a  bold  cavalier  may  purloin  one  of  my 
dancing  slippers,  and  then  I  should  be  put  to  ab- 
senting myself  from  all  routs,  —  which,  no  doubt, 
would  please  good  Father  Potier  well,  since  he  is 
ever  chiding  me  for  my  frivolity. 


"HEIGH-HO,  FOR  A  DANCING  FROCK"  31 

"  Eh  bien,  the  sum  of  this  inventory  is,  that. had  I 
a  new  bodice,  I  might  be  considered  in  readiness  for 
any  ordinary  social  gathering  wherewith  we  of  Le 
Detroit  divert  ourselves  in  summer,  or  while  away 
the  evenings  of  the  long  winter.  But,  for  the  ball  to 
be  held  at  the  house  of  the  English  commandant 
to-morrow  evening,  what  am  I  to  do  for  a  costume? 
The  grand  ball  given  in  compliment  to  Sir  William 
Johnson,  whose  arrival  yesterday  was  attended  with 
such  eclat ! 

"  My  father,  Antoine  Cuillerier,  hates  the  British, 
and  so,  of  course,  do  I ;  but  still,  I  have  eyes,  and 
ma  foi,  since  the  days  of  the  Sieur  de  Cadillac  never 
has  Le  Detroit  seen  a  finer  pageant.  Three  hundred 
soldiers  in  scarlet  coats  trooping  up  from  their  bat- 
eaux, and  through  the  water-gate  into  the  town  to 
the  measure  of  martial  music,  while  the  sunlight 
gleamed  upon  their  gun-barrels  and  flashed  back 
from  the  swords  and  epaulettes  of  the  officers.  And 
in  the  van,  marching  with  head  erect,  a  man  young 
in  years  and  somewhat  austere  of  visage,  but  cast  in 
a  splendid  mould  of  manly  beauty.  Yes,  he  is  even 
more  personable  than  is  Monsieur  Sterling. 

"  Then,  following  this  military  array,  and  escorted 
by  the  pleasant  Captain  Campbell,  came  Sir  Johnson, 
who  is  lord,  it  seems,  of  all  this  country,  since  the 
English  have  come.  Heigh-ho !  A  grand-looking 
personage  and  somewhat  portly,  with  the  breast  of  his 
surtout  and  his  chapeau  well-nigh  covered  with  gold 
lace.  Right  glad  am  I  that  my  aunt  Des  Ruisseaux 
sent  for  me  early  in  the  day  to  come  to  her.  I  would 
not  have  missed  the  pomp,  and  glitter,  and  enliven- 
ment  of  it  all ;  no,  not  even  for  a  new  jupe  and  bodice. 

"  And  to-morrow  night  there  is  to  be  a  ball  which 
kind  Captain  Campbell  asks  the  French  ladies  of 


32       THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

the  post  to  honor  with  their  presence.  Where  is 
it  I  put  the  billet  ?  Ah,  here  it  is  in  the  little  birch 
bark  reticule  that  the  son  of  the  proud  Indian  chief 
of  the  Isle  au  P£che  presented  to  me  with  as  much 
respect  as  if  I  were  Queen  of  France.  Yes,  this  sweet 
scented  billet  is  most  legibly  writ  and  in  fairly  proper 
French  by  Monsieur  Sterling,  who  has  made  much 
improvement  in  the  language  of  late,  having  paid 
diligent  heed  to  the  lessons  of  his  teacher." 

At  this  the  girl  bent  her  head  over  the  formal  little 
note  of  invitation  with  a  smile  that  told  in  what 
quarter  the  young  Scotchman  had  prosecuted  his 
studies  with  such  commendable  assiduity. 

"  Ah,  but  it  is  difficult  to  hate  these  strangers,"  she 
continued  to  herself.  "  Moreover,  it  is  a  sin  to  hate 
any  one ;  so  say  our  cure  at  Ste.  Anne's  and  the  mis- 
sionary, Father  Potier,  across  the  river.  Thus,  in 
this  matter,  I  am  not  bound  to  yield  obedience  to  my 
father,  Antoine  Cuillerier.  No ;  Father  Potier  says 
we  must  love  our  enemies.  Love  ?  Oh,  it  is  very  well 
to  be  loved  at  a  distance ;  but  to  love  Monsieur  Ster- 
ling and  the  handsome  newcomer  Major  Gladwin, 
and  dear  old  Captain  Campbell,  and  —  phouff,  that 
is  too  much  to  demand,  even  of  so  sad  a  coquette  as 
Mam'selle  Angelique  Cuillerier  de  Beaubien.  No, 
Angelique,  love  thy  neighbor,  but  pull  not  down  thy 
hedges." 

She  laughed  again  in  a  soft,  murmuring  fashion,  as 
she  thought  how  shocked  the  good  vicar  and  the 
missionary  would  be  at  her  frivolous  interpretation  of 
the  little  homilies  wherein  they  counselled  their 
French  and  Indian  parishioners,  and  the  English 
dwellers  at  Fort  Pontchartrain,  to  mutual  forbearance, 
that,  despite  their  rival  interests,  the  people  of  Le 
Detroit  might  live  in  peace. 


"  HEIGH-HO,  FOR  A  DANCING  FROCK  "  33 

"  But  about  this  new  frock,"  continued  Angelique, 
as  she  wound  one  of  her  long  curls  about  her  fore- 
finger and  resumed  her  practice  of  thinking  aloud. 
When  a  young  demoiselle  has  no  girl  companion  in 
the  house,  it  is  pleasant  for  her  to  hear  a  fresh  clear 
voice  debating  the  small  dilemmas  that  come  up  for 
her  decision,  even  though  the  voice  be  her  own. 
"  A  pretty  plight  am  I  in,  for  the  daughter  of  the 
wealthiest  trader  of  the  strait !  Not  an  ell  of  fine 
fabric  to  be  bought  in  the  town,  since,  of  course, 
every  stuff  of  beauty  is  snapped  up  by  the  dames  and 
demoiselles  as  soon  as  the  bateaux  arrive  from 
Montreal.  The  autumn  flotilla  will  not  be  here 
until  the  end  of  the  month;  and  then,  't  is  sub- 
stantial cloths  for  the  winter  it  will  bring.  Ah, 
Marianne  de  St.  Ours  ordered  from  my  father's  buy- 
ers a  marigold  colored  muslin,  and  has  never  worn 
the  same,  since  her  brother  died  before  it  arrived. 

"  I  might  buy  it  of  her.  Yes,  I  have  some  silver 
in  this  reticule,  and  could  make  up  the  balance  in 
lengths  of  linen,  or  some  trinket.  But  no,  I  will 
not  buy  it,  for  Marianne  has  shown  it  to  all  the 
ladies  of  quality  in  the  settlement;  and  no  matter  how 
fair  it  might  look,  some  envious  body  would  say, 
'  There  is  Angelique  Cuillerier  decked  out  in  the 
finery  of  Mam'selle  de  St.  Ours.'  Ay,  though  I  paid 
for  it  a  score  of  times.  Now  I  know,  —  the  white 
dimity  overstrewn  with  little  pastoral  designs,  that 
my  father  brought  to  Tante  Josette  last  year !  If  she 
will  let  me  have  it  I  will  coax  him  to  get  for  her  a 
gown  of  silk  so  heavy  that  it  will  stand  alone.  All  to- 
morrow I  will  sew,  until  my  frock  is  finished.  I  will 
ask  her  for  it  when  she  returns  from  her  afternoon 
visit  to  my  sister,  Dame  Chesne  La  Butte." 

She  rose,  passed  beyond  the  deerskin  curtain  that 
3 


34       THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

divided  her  own  especial  nook  from  the  remain- 
der of  the  loft,  and,  after  a  moment  of  hesitation, 
raised  the  lid  of  a  green-painted  chest,  where  were 
laid  away  in  lavender  the  treasures  of  the  spinster 
aunt  who  idolized  her. 

"  The  dear  Tante  will  not  be  vexed  if  I  just  take  a 
peep  at  it,"  said  the  precipitate  Angelique,  as,  after 
some  search,  she  drew  forth  the  gauzy  fabric.  "  Never 
has  it  even  seen  the  shears." 

Throwing  a  fold  of  the  cloud-like  drapery  over  her 
shoulder,  and  hastening  back  to  the  window,  she 
peered  into  a  small  mirror  that  hung  upon  the  wall. 
"  Yes,  mademoiselle,  you  could  not  have  a  more 
charming  costume,"  she  declared  to  the  piquant  face 
that  looked  back  at  her  from  the  glass. 

Then,  with  a  qualm  of  conscience,  hastily  restor- 
ing the  stuff  to  the  chest,  she  returned  to  her  low 
chair  in  the  recess  of  the  window,  took  down  the 
mirror  and,  resting  it  upon  her  knees,  gazed  critically 
at  the  bright  reflection  that  had  so  promptly  decided 
the  question  of  the  "  toilette  du  bal." 

"  Ah,  it  is  good  to  be  young,  —  and  not  ill-favored," 
she  exclaimed  with  a  sigh  of  content.  "  To  be  gay, 
and  dance,  and  sing,  and  laugh !  To  be  loved,  — • 
and  to  love,  —  sometime !  What  tales  this  old 
mirror  might  tell,  had  it  a  voice !  My  uncle,  De 
Bellestre,  gave  it  to  me.  It  was  found  in  the  loft  of 
his  house  among  some  effects  left  there  long  ago  by 
the  erstwhile  commandant,  Hugues  Pean,  knight  of 
St.  Louis  and  Lord  of  Livaudiere.  'T  is  said,  little 
glass,  that  you  once  belonged  to  the  wife  of  this 
proud  chevalier,  the  beautiful  Angelique  de  Meloise, 
and  he  brought  you  here  as  a  keepsake.  He  loved 
her  to  the  end,  although  she  declined  to  come  with 
him,  having  no  mind  to  hide  her  beauty  in  the  wilder- 


«  HEIGH-HO,  FOR  A  DANCING  FROCK"    35 

ness.  Ah,  show  me  for  once  that  charming  face 
framed  by  its  aureole  of  golden  hair,  those  eyes  blue 
as  the  heavens,  the  exquisite  white  and  red  of  that 
matchless  complexion  ! " 

Angelique  renewed  the  study  of  her  own  counte- 
nance with  manifest  dissatisfaction.  "  I  would  my 
visage  was  not  so  brown,  that  my  hair  was  fair,  and 
my  eyes  light  instead  of  black,"  she  sighed,  and 
lapsed  into  silence.  Presently,  however,  she  started 
from  her  reverie  and  hung  up  the  mirror,  with  its  face 
to  the  wall. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  crossing  herself  devoutly.  "  I 
am  glad  my  hair  and  eyes  are  black  and  my  skin  is 
brown  after  all.  Angelique  de  Meloise  was  a  wicked 
woman,  and  I  would  not  look  as  she  did  for  anything 
in  the  world." 

Thereat  a  gay  chanson  rose  to  the  lips  of  the 
happy-hearted  girl.  Though  merry  and  somewhat 
given  to  innocent  coquetry,  Angelique  was  a  guile- 
less little  demoiselle  who  decked  with  flowers  the 
shrines  of  Ste.  Anne's  and  the  mission  chapel,  and 
strove  to  keep  her  life  all  fair  without  and  all  white 
within,  as  were  the  apples  that  grew  in  the  mission 
orchard  ;  the  apples  that  good  Father  Potier  watched 
over  with  such  care.  Moreover,  from  her  earliest 
years  she  had  ever  shown  great  courage  in  face  of 
danger.  Even  when  as  a  tiny  creature  she  awoke 
and  found  the  bear  cub  bending  over  her,  heedless 
of  his  growling  she  had  pushed  him  away,  and  driven 
him  from  the  house  with  a  stick.  And  recently,  when 
an  Indian  who  had  imbibed  too  freely  of  "  English 
milk"  (rum)  came  to  the  door  demanding  gunpow- 
der, and  threatening  revenge  upon  the  household  if 
his  request  was  refused,  she  had  covered  him  with  her 
father's  fusee,  and  compelled  him  to  leave  instantly. 


36       THE    HEROINE    OF    THE   STRAIT 

Humming  the  lively  refrain  of  "  Malbrouck,"  she 
descended  the  stairs  to  the  hearthroom,  where  her 
young  brothers  were  taking  their  simple  supper,  at- 
tended by  a  Pani  woman.  Dame  Cuillerier  and 
Tante  Josette  had  not  returned  from  their  visit,  and 
Antoine  and  his  older  sons  were  away  in  the  forest. 

Angelique  joined  the  children,  and,  after  the  meal, 
wandered  out  with  them  along  the  river  bank.  Like 
a  great  flaming  rose  the  sun  was  setting  away  down 
in  the  direction  of  Lake  Erie,  for  here,  from  the  many 
windings  of  Le  Detroit,  the  points  of  the  mariner's 
compass  seem  oddly  changed.  Near  the  shore  the 
river  was  a  swift  current  of  opalescent  tints,  and  afar 
off  a  gleaming  sea  of  silver.  Now  from  the  tower  of 
Ste.  Anne's  rang  forth  upon  the  soft  September  air 
the  calm  tones  of  the  Angelus,  while  across  the  water 
came  the  answering  antiphons  from  the  bell  of  the 
Huron  Mission. 

"  Ave  Maria,"  sang  the  fresh,  true  voice  of  Ange- 
lique, the  lads  adding  their  shrill  treble. 

"  Tendre  Marie,  Reine  des  cieux, 
Mere  che'rie,  patronne  de  ces  lieux ! 

Veillez  sur  notre  enfance, 
Sauvez  notre  innocence, 
Conservez-nous  ce  tre'sor  pre'cieux." 

Scarcely  had  their  tuneful  chant  died  away  when, 
with  surprise,  they  heard  its  melody  borne  back  to 
them  upon  the  breeze  in  the  clear  notes  of  a  flute, 
sweet  as  the  fabled  song  of  the  dying  swan. 

Not  a  skiff  was  to  be  seen  on  the  placid  strait, 
but  still  the  dulcet  sounds  came  nearer  and  at  last, 
around  a  point  of  land,  appeared  a  canoe  paddled  by 
an  Indian  boy. 

It  was  not  he  who  produced  the  music,  however, 
but  a  young  "  paleface  "  who  sat  in  the  centre  of  the 


"  HEIGH-HO,  FOR  A  DANCING  FROCK"  37 

craft,  and  now,  abandoning  his  flute,  began  to  sing  an 
old  Scotch  love  song, — 

"  Her  eyes  so  brightly  beaming, 

Her  look  so  frank  and  free, 
In  waking  and  in  dreaming 

Are  evermore  with  me. 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hire,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 

Oh,  she  's  the  maid  for  me. 

"  With  her  fair  face  before  me 

How  sweetly  flew  the  hour, 
When  all  her  beauty  held  me 

A  captive  to  its  power. 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hire,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 

Oh,  she's  the  maid  for  me. 

"  Her  face  with  kindness  glowing, 

Her  heart  that  hides  no  guile ; 
The  light  grace  of  her  going, 

The  witchcraft  of  her  smile. 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hire,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 

Oh,  she  's  the  maid  for  me." 

"  Monsieur  Sterling !  Monsieur  Sterling  !  "  cried  the 
boys,  hastening  to  the  wharf  with  noisy  welcome. 

"  Heigh,  my  canty  friends ! "  cried  Sterling,  as  he 
leaped  ashore.  "  Jaco  here  has  brought  you  new 
bows  and  arrows." 

Having  thus  with  ready  stratagem  disposed  both 
of  his  boatman  and  his  juvenile  hosts,  he  turned  to 
Angelique.  "  Will  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  be  so 
gracious  as  to  favor  me  with  her  company  in  a  canoe 
ride  on  the  river  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  uncovered  his 
head  and  bowed  formally. 


38      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

The  teasing  demoiselle  hesitated  only  so  much  as 
that  he  must  need  press  his  invitation.  At  Le  De- 
troit the  liberty  enjoyed  by  the  pretty  French  maiden 
would  have  aroused  the  envy  of  her  sisters  in  more 
conventional  surroundings. 

The  young  Scotchman,  as  an  interpreter  and  trader 
not  in  the  service  of  the  English,  occupied,  in  effect, 
the  position  of  an  intermediary  between  the  con- 
querors and  the  French-Canadians  of  the  strait.  His 
ingenuous  face  and  courtly  manners  had  won  for  him 
a  degree  of  favor  with  Antoine  and  the  good  Dame 
Cuillerier,  and  Angelique  was  free  to  go  canoeing 
with  him  now,  if  she  chose. 

"  The  twilight  is  long,  and  we  will  return  by  eight 
of  the  clock,"  he  urged. 

"  Eh  bien,  by  eight  it  must  be  then,"  she  answered, 
and  stepped  into  the  canoe  with  agile  grace.  "  Am 
I  to  paddle,  or  will  you,  monsieur?  I  know  not 
whether  you  would  fain  be  musician  or  boatman?" 


CHAPTER  FOURTH 

ON   THE   RIVER   AT   SUNSET 

STERLING  swore  mentally.  This  charming  de- 
moiselle had  verily  most  tantalizing  humors. 
"  It  may  please  you,  mademoiselle,  to  make  a  jest  of 
my  want  of  skill  with  the  paddle,"  he  said  aloud,  "  yet 
even  a  poor  boatman  performs  wonders  when  his 
heart  is  in  his  work,  and  with  you  to  smile  upon  my 
exertions,  what  greater  incentive  to  improvement 
could  I  ask?" 

"  In  faith,  I  am  certain  to  smile  upon  them,  even 
though  at  the  same  time  I  may  be  imploring  the  pro- 
tection of  the  good  Ste.  Anne,"  she  replied  banter- 
ingly.  "  I  fear  me  it  needs  a  clear  conscience,  an 
adventurous  spirit  and  a  kind  providence  to  risk  the 
overturning  of  the  skiff  in  a  canoe  ride  with  you, 
Monsieur  Sterling." 

"  Then  how  can  you  reconcile  with  your  conscience 
the  unkind  speeches  you  have 'been  making  for  the 
last  ten  minutes?  "  returned  Sterling  gayly,  as  with  a 
light  and  dexterous  stroke  his  paddle  dipped  into 
the  limpid  waters,  now  on  the  right  hand,  now  on  the 
left,  and  the  canoe  bounded  forward  fleetly  as  the 
fawn  of  the  forest.  For  the  young  Scotchman  was  no 
such  novice  in  the  management  of  the  Indian's  fairy- 
like  craft  as  the  perverse  Angelique  sought  to  pretend. 

"  As  for  the  boldness  of  your  spirit,"  he  continued 
after  a  few  minutes,  during  which  they  had  glided 
into  the  current  of  the  river,  "  I  admire  it  mightily. 


40      THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

Ever  have  I  noted  that  a  woman's  courage  mounteth 
on  occasion." 

The  scene  was  tranquilly  lovely.  The  broad  waters 
outstretched  before  them,  still  rosy  with  the  glow  of 
the  sunset,  and  on  either  side  of  the  strait  green 
prairies  extended  to  the  horizon,  save  where  a  grove 
of  hickory,  birch,  or  maple  lent  variety  to  the  land- 
scape. In  the  foreground,  bordering  the  shores,  were 
the  lodges  of  the  Indian  villages  and  the  habitants' 
white  farmhouses.  The  latter  half  embowered  in 
trees  or  standing  alone,  as  though  they  courted  the 
sunshine,  were  surrounded  by  a  high  palisade  of 
cedar  pickets,  here  and  there  overgrown  with  the 
wild  honeysuckle  vine  and  the  clematis,  whose  small 
snowy  blossoms  were  at  this  season  giving  place  to  a 
cloud-like  furze.  Within  the  enclosures,  the  carefully 
tended  parterres  were  now  ablaze  with  the  flame 
color  and  red  of  autumnal  blooms,  marigolds,  zinias, 
and  the  purple  and  rose  china  asters.  Behind  the 
homesteads  lay  the  orchards,  the  branches  of  the 
sturdy  trees  now  bending  with  the  weight  of  the 
maturing  fruit ;  and  still  beyond,  for  half  a  mile  or 
more,  the  fields  of  grain  and  vegetables  extended  to 
the  edge  of  the  forest. 

In  the  marsh  land,  tangled  growths  of  pond  lilies 
edged  the  river,  —  a  fact  whereof  Sterling  had  been 
mindful  on  his  way  from  the  town,  for  now  a  cluster 
of  the  white  star-flowers  rested  upon  the  knees  of 
Angelique,  as  she  sat  in  the  bow  of  the  canoe,  smiling 
into  the  frank  eyes  of  the  young  man,  who,  as  he  plied 
his  paddle  with  half-indolent  ease,  bandied  merry 
words  with  her,  and  answered  her  shafts  of  raillery 
with  flashes  of  wit  or  a  well-framed  compliment. 

There  were  other  canoeing  parties  this  evening 
also ;  in  the  summer  and  early  autumn  the  settlers  of 


ON   THE   RIVER   AT   SUNSET          41 

Le  Detroit  took  to  the  river  like  a  covey  of  water 
birds.  Now  a  long  bateau  came  up  the  stream, 
breasting  the  current  gallantly  like  some  beautiful, 
fabled  charger  of  the  sea  and  manned  by  a  crew  of 
red-capped  voyageurs,  who  bent  their  strong  backs  to 
their  oars,  keeping  time  with  the  rhythm  of  a  jovial 
boatsong,  — 

"  Mon  pere  a  fait  bati  maison,  — 

Ha,  ha,  ha,  —  frit  a  1'huile,  — 

Sont  trois  charpentiers  qui  la  font,  — 
Fritaine,  friton,  fritou,  poilon  ! 

Ha,  ha,  ha,  —  frit  a  1'huile, 

Frit  au  beurre  a  1'ognon." 

Hardly  had  the  echoes  of  the  laughing  refrain  died 
away,  when  there  shot  by  a  solitary  Indian  skiff,  its 
dusky  pilot  silent  and  inscrutable,  as  though  he  and 
his  mysterious  craft  were  one  being,  like  a  centaur 
and  his  steed. 

The  slower  punts  of  the  French-Canadians  jour- 
neyed back  and  forth  across  the  stream  to  the  home- 
steads on  either  side  or  to  and  from  the  town,  their 
occupants  intent  upon  business  or  social  visits. 
Presently  there  appeared  a  number  of  small  boats 
from  the  fort,  navigated  by  British  soldiers,  who 
raced  one  against  another,  joking  and  singing  and 
making  merry  among  themselves. 

"  Hark,"  cried  Angelique  joyously,  as  there  floated 
across  the  water  snatches  of  their  song,  — 

"  We  be  soldiers  three,  — 
Pardonnez  moi,  je  vous  en  prie,  — 
Lately  come  from  the  Low  Countrie, 
With  never  a  penny  of  monie. 

"  Here  good  fellow,  I  drink  to  thee,  — 
Pardonnez  moi,  je  vous  en  prie, — 
To  all  good  fellows  wherever  they  be 
With  never  a  penny  of  monie. 


42      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  And  he  that  will  not  pledge  me  this,  — 
Pardonnez  moi,  je  vous  en  prie, — 
Pays  for  the  shot  whatever  it  is, 
With  never  a  penny  of  monie. 

"  Charge  it  again,  boy,  charge  it  again, — 
Pardonnez  moi,  je  vous  en  prie,  — 
As  long  as  there  is  any  ink  in  thy  pen, 
With  never  a  penny  of  monie." 

Sterling  smiled,  and  turned  aside  his  skiff  to  avoid 
a  collision  with  a  canoe  drifting  in  midstream.  It  was 
that  of  Robishe  Navarre,  son  of  the  sub-Intendant 
and  royal  notary ;  and  Angelique  shrugged  a  shoulder 
and  pursed  her  rosy  lips  as  she  saw  that  his  com- 
panion was  the  pretty  Archange  de  Mersac ;  while 
Archange  smiled,  and  artfully  called  the  attention  of 
Robishe  to  the  escort  of  Angelique.  The  four  ex- 
changed greetings,  and  Sterling,  paddling  on,  soon 
passed  Jacques  Gotfefroy  and  his  wife  ;  Jacques  smok- 
ing his  brightly  decorated  Indian  pipe,  Clotilde  with 
their  child  clasped  in  her  arms. 

And  now  all  else  upon  the  water  seemed  for  a 
moment  blotted  out,  and  the  surface  of  the  stream  in 
the  vicinity  of  Sterling  and  Angelique  was  black  with  a 
fleet  of  Huron  canoes,  a  band  of  fishers  returning  from 
the  Lake  of  Ste.  Claire  to  their  village  below  the  fort. 

Such  were  the  scenes  upon  the  river  highway  at 
this  hour,  an  ever-changing  drama,  wherein  lovers, 
staid  habitants,  savages  and  merry-makers  played 
their  r61es.  As  Sterling  and  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier 
continued  their  voyage,  the  young  man  dropped  the 
tone  of  respectful  gallantry  wherewith  he  had  met 
her  sprightly  sallies,  and  a  note  of  tenderness  crept 
into  his  voice  as,  letting  the  light  craft  drift,  he  said, 
reverting  to  the  pleasantry  she  had  uttered  half  an 
hour  before, — 


ON   THE   RIVER   AT   SUNSET          43 

"  Eh  bien,  Mademoiselle,  if  it  was  Providence  who 
set  us  adrift  thus  together,  I  am  emboldened  to  tell 
you  something  that  is  on  my  mind." 

"  Oh,  oh,  I  did  but  jest,"  stammered  Angelique  in 
quick  confusion. 

"  Ma  foi,  why  is  he  so  different  from  other  cava- 
liers ?  "  queried  the  girl  to  herself.  "  The  gallants  of 
Le  Detroit  may  attempt  to  speak  of  love,  and  one  can 
check  them  with  a  merry  word,  but  '  ce  monsieur  ici ' 
pays  no  heed  to  my  warnings." 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,"  he  went  on  with  quiet  tenac- 
ity, "  you  must  know  it  is  a  great  happiness  to  me 
to  have  you  with  me,  here  in  my  boat,  even  for 
this  short  twilight  hour.  I  love  you,  sweet  one, 
with  all  my  heart.  To  me  you  are  the  most  beauti- 
ful woman  in  the  world.  But,  though  your  beauty 
fascinates  me,  I  am  still  more  drawn  to  you  by  the 
guilelessness  of  soul  that  is  mirrored  in  your  dear 
eyes.  Be  my  wife,  Angelique,  —  tell  me  that  you 
will  voyage  with  me  in  the  canoe  of  life.  For  you  I 
will  do  and  dare  great  things,  —  whatever  you  ask. 
At  least  grant  me  leave  to  hope  that  sometime  you 
will  love  me  a  little  because  I  love  you  so  fondly,  as 
one  who  is  cold  grows  warm  at  the  hearth-fire ;  that 
you  will  plight  with  me  the  marriage  vows  before  the 
altar  of  Ste.  Anne's?" 

In  his  earnestness  he  leaned  forward.  Beyond  his 
eager,  ingenuous  face  Angelique  saw  the  western  sky, 
a  pale  sea  of  green  and  amber ;  a  star  gleamed  faintly 
above  it,  while  at  the  horizon  gathered  the  violet 
mists  of  evening.  For  a  moment,  indeed,  it  seemed 
to  the  girl  as  if  the  gates  of  paradise  were  wide  open, 
and,  floating  beyond  them  in  this  frail  barque,  she 
and  Sterling,  the  husband  of  her  choice,  might  voy- 
age on,  forever  young,  forever  happy.  Ah,  yes,  it 


44      THE   HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

would  be  sweet  to  be  loved  and  cherished  as  dearly 
as  he  vowed  that  he  would  love  and  cherish  her. 

Like  one  in  a  dream  she  listened.  The  young  man 
from  his  position  in  the  canoe  could  not  see  the  fair 
afterglow  of  the  sunset;  he  beheld  only  her  counte- 
nance, radiant,  gracious,  sympathetic,  as  though  her 
gentle  spirit  were  attuned  to  his.  Then,  all  at  once, 
this  rapt  expression  faded. 

Alas  for  his  hope !  As  Angelique  lowered  her 
eyes  from  the  peaceful  sky,  they  rested  an  instant 
upon  the  bastions  of  old  Fort  Pontchartrain.  She 
remembered  that  Sterling  had  come  to  Le  Detroit 
with  the  conquerors ;  and,  alack,  she  thought  also  of 
the  ball  to  be  given  by  Colonel  Campbell  the  next 
evening,  and  of  the  distinguished  officers  who  would 
be  his  guests.  Nevertheless,  if  she  did  not  love  the 
persistent  Scotchman,  her  heart  was  more  deeply 
stirred  by  his  manly  wooing  than  it  had  ever  been 
before. 

"Answer  me,  Angelique,"  he  entreated;  "or  may 
I  take  your  silence  for  permission  to  still  further  plead 
my  love,  my  respect  and  admiration  for  you?" 

"  Oh,  monsieur,  do  not,  I  beg  of  you,  so  interpret 
it,"  she  broke  out  at  length.  "  You  are  a  stranger  at 
Le  Detroit;  a  short  time  ago  I  knew  not  of  your 
existence." 

"  There  are  those  who  will  affirm  what  I  have  told 
you  of  myself  and  my  people,"  he  began,  but  she 
stopped  him  abruptly. 

"  I  have  no  mind  to  marry  —  yet,"  she  protested, 
"  and  how  shall  I  reply  to  you  ?  I  cannot  say  '  yes,' 
you  will  not  have  me  say  '  no ;  '  what  then  can  it 
be?" 

It  was  the  answer  of  a  coquette,  yet  Angelique  had 
never  been  more  in  earnest. 


ON   THE   RIVER   AT   SUNSET          45 

"  Let  it  remain  unspoken,  then,  '  ma  belle/  until  it 
can  be  '  yes,' "  he  rejoined,  as  he  essayed  to  touch  her 
hand. 

"  Oh,  monsieur,  have  a  care,  lest  you  overturn  the 
canoe,"  exclaimed  the  teasing  demoiselle,  in  pre- 
tended alarm. 

Sterling  was  wise  enough  not  to  weary  her  with  his 
love-making. 

"  You  are  right,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  quietly. 
"  I  would  only  beg  you  to  believe  that  I  did  not  ask 
you  to  come  upon  the  river  so  that  you  must  needs 
listen  to  my  suit.  If  I  chose  an  untimely  moment  to 
tell  you  of  my  love,  it  is  because  of  late  whenever  I 
have  been  with  you  the  avowal  has  trembled  on  my 
lips.  If  I.  have  vexed  you,  it  is  my  misfortune." 

By  a  clever  manipulation  of  the  paddle  he  brought 
the  canoe  about,  and  headed  it  toward  the  Cuillerier 
homestead.  For  a  few  minutes  there  was  an  awkward 
silence.  But  Sterling,  refraining  by  an  effort  from 
further  expression  of  his  hopes  and  emotions,  sought 
to  lessen  his  own  and  Angelique's  embarrassment  by 
talking  of  indifferent  matters. 

Angelique  trailed  a  hand  in  the  blue  water  and 
watched  him  half  shyly.  Not  in  this  wise  would 
have  acted  Robishe  Navarre,  Jasmin  de  Joncaire,  or 
one  or  two  others  she  might  name.  The  wooing  of 
Robishe  would  have  been  more  fervid,  perchance ; 
but  she  could  have  put  it  aside  with  a  jest.  And  no 
fear,  either,  that  he  would  carry  around  a  broken 
heart;  was  not  Archange  de  Mersac  ready  to  con- 
sole him?  While,  had  Jasmin  laid  at  her  feet  his 
lands  and  fortune,  and  met  with  so  little  success,  he 
would  have  sulked  all  the  way  home.  How  consid- 
erate was  this  young  Scotchman  !  .  Although  not  so 
well-favored  as  the  English  officer  who  arrived  yes- 


46      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

terday,  he  was  well  built,  and  as  with  light,  steady 
strokes  he  drove  the  canoe  onward,  the  exertion  dis- 
played his  fine  physique  and  manly  strength  to  ad- 
vantage. Moreover,  he  had  a  most  frank  and  honest 
countenance.  After  all,  she  was  almost  sorry  she 
had  not  said  "  yes  "  awhile  ago  ;  of  a  sudden,  life  had 
taken  on  a  dreary  grayness.  She  and  her  lover  had 
turned  back  from  the  Gates  of  Happiness;  she  no 
longer  looked  upon  the  western  sky,  but  before  her 
in  the  distance  the  dusk  began  to  settle  down  upon 
the  Lake  of  Ste.  Claire,  and  in  the  foreground  were 
only  the  shadowy  woodland  solitudes  of  the  Isle  au 
Cochon  and  the  Isle  au  P6che. 

But  what  is  it  this  singular  Monsieur  Sterling  is 
saying  now?  He  is  telling  of  his  first  coming  to  Le 
Detroit.  So  intently  had  she  been  thinking  of  him 
that  she  had  paid  small  heed  to  his  words. 

"  Pardon,  I  was  regretting  that  the  lilies  have  folded 
their  petals  over  their  golden  hearts,"  she  faltered, 
holding  up  before  him  the  bunch  of  withered 
blooms. 

"  As  you  have  closed  your  heart  against  me,"  he 
could  not  help  saying.  But  she  added  hastily, 
"Ah,  yes,  full  well  I  remember;  it  is  near  unto  a 
year  since  the  English  took  possession  of  Le  Detroit. 
Major  Rogers  is  gone  to  Michilimackinac,  and  Captain 
Campbell  is  commandant  here.  He  is  only  to  be 
second  in  authority,  you  say?  This  young  officer 
who  came  yesterday,  —  how  is  it  you  call  him, — 
Major  Gladwin,  is  to  be  commandant?  That  is  news 
indeed.  What  is  that  about  a  parley  the  English  had 
with  a  savage  chief  on  their  way  up  from  the  Lake  of 
the  Eries?" 

Sterling  repeated  his  remark,  and  then  went  on  to 
tell  her  of  the  Indian  youth  and  the  escort  of  warriors 


ON   THE    RIVER   AT   SUNSET          47 

sent  to  Major  Rogers,  while  with  his  rangers  he  was 
encamped  on  the  borders  of  the  forest,  the  haughty 
message  brought  by  the  envoy,  and  the  coming  of 
the  unknown  chief  at  sunset. 

"The  youth  was  like  to  Panigwun,  'the  Strong 
Wing-Feather ; '  and  of  what  appearance  was  the  lord- 
lier savage?  "  inquired  the  girl,  who  had  listened  with 
parted  lips  to  his  strange  recital. 

"  He  was  not  a  tall  man,"  continued  Sterling 
thoughtfully,  "but  his  muscular  figure  was  distin- 
guished by  remarkable  symmetry  and  vigor.  In 
complexion  he  was  darker  than  the  other  warriors, 
darker  than  are  the  Indians  here  at  the  strait ;  his 
features  were  stern  and  bold,  his  bearing  imperious, 
like  that  of  a  man  accustomed  to  sweep  away  all 
opposition  by  the  force  of  his  determined  will.  He 
wore  his  crimson  blanket  with  a  native  majesty,  and 
his'  feather  head-dress  could  not  have  lent  to  him 
greater  dignity  had  it  been  a  crown  of  gold.  He  was 
willing,  he  said,  to  live  at  peace  with  the  English ;  he 
will  suffer  them  to  remain  in  his  country  so  long  as 
they  treat  him  with  due  deference,  forsooth.  In  fact, 
we  heard  later  that  four  hundred  braves  lay  in  am- 
bush at  the  entrance  to  Le  Detroit  to  cut  us  off,  but 
the  influence  of  this  king  of  the  wilderness  was  hap- 
pily exerted  in  our  behalf,  and  they  were  turned  from 
their  design." 

"  And  not  one  among  the  English  was  able  to  learn 
the  name  of  the  powerful  warrior  who  gave  them  so 
signal  a  proof  of  his  friendship?"  queried  Angelique 
incredulously. 

"No.  Major  Rogers  and,  after  him,  Captain 
Campbell  asked  it  of  every  brave  who  came  to  the 
fort.  As  one  neutral  in  regard  to  all  the  rival  interests 
here,  I  was  requested  to  make  inquiry  of  the  French ; 


48      THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

but  from  officers,  traders,  habitants,  the  reply  has  been 
ever  the  same,  — '  It  was,  without  doubt,  the  Great 
Chief.'  Moreover,  this  remarkable  man  seems  to 
have  utterly  vanished.  At  the  councils  with  the 
Indians  called  by  Major  Rogers  he  was  eagerly 
looked  for,  but  he  did  not  appear.  Sir  William 
Johnson  is  most  curious  to  discover  his  identity,  yet 
at  the  grand  parley  which  our  distinguished  super- 
intendent of  Indian  affairs  held  to-day  with  all  the 
chiefs  of  Le  Detroit,  he  was  not  present.  Mademoi- 
selle, can  you  explain  this  riddle?  Who  is  this 
mysterious  savage,  —  do  you  know?" 

Angelique  nodded. 

"  It  can  be  no  other  than  the  mighty  chief  of  the 
Ottawas,  my  father's  friend,"  she  rejoined  at  once,  in 
a  tone  of  conviction.  "  Often  has  he  warmed  himself 
at  the  hearth-fire  of  Antoine  Cuillerier  and  sat  at  his 
board." 

Sterling  stared  at  her  in  blank  amazement,  for 
as  she  spoke  she  raised  her  head  with  an  air  of 
pride. 

He  had  seen  in  Britain,  in  France,  in  Puritan  New 
England,  many  fair  and  modest  damsels,  but  never,  it 
seemed  to  him,  had  he  met  a  young  maid  of  sweeter 
nature  or  more  natural  delicacy  than  was  this  viva- 
cious, naive  little  demoiselle  who  had  been  born  and 
bred  here,  at  this  frontier  post,  so  far  removed  from 
the  world  of  elegance  and  refinement.  Any  belle  of 
the  old  world  or  the  new  might  envy  her  exquisite 
daintiness  and  grace ;  and  yet,  save  the  mark,  she 
boasted  of  the  familiar  footing  whereon  her  father 
stood  with  a  redskin  of  the  forest. 

"  What  anomalies  are  to  be  met  with  here  in  the 
wilderness,"  he  reflected.  "  How  I  wish  I  could  take 
this  captivating  Angelique  away  from  so  rude  a  life." 


ON   THE   RIVER   AT   SUNSET          49 

"  But,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  aloud,  with  no  at- 
tempt to  conceal  his  surprise,  "  it  is  not  possible  that 
you  have  sat  at  table  with  a  painted  savage  ?  " 

The  girl  broke  into  a  peal  of  musical  laughter. 

"  Oh,  no,  monsieur,"  she  answered.  "  When  the 
Indian  warriors  visit  Antoine  Cuillerier,  the  women 
of  his  household  are  invisible,  save  only  the  Pani 
slaves  that  wait  upon  the  guests.  With  us  it  could 
not  be  otherwise,  and  his  dusky  associates  are  not 
offended,  since  among  them  no  woman  may  be  seated 
in  the  presence  of  her  lord." 

She  laughed  again  at  the  ease  wherewith  the  diffi- 
culty was  thus  bridged ;  but  Sterling  frowned.  Pres- 
ently, however,  his  brow  cleared. 

"  Since  you  know  the  name  of  the  Great  Chief,  you 
will  tell  it  to  me?  You  will  tell  me  where  he  may  be 
found?"  he  urged. 

Angelique  hesitated.  His  face  was  so  eager  and 
animated,  his  smile  so  candid,  his  manner  so  win- 
ning, how  could  she  decline  to  answer  the  simple 
question,  especially  when  he  had  just  given  her  the 
greatest  proof  of  his  confidence  by  asking  her  to  be 
his  wife?  Her  father,  Antoine  Cuillerier,  had  warned 
her  to  be  cautious  what  she  said  to  the  English ; 
but  Sterling  was  not  English.  He  was  willing  to 
trust  her  with  his  life's  happiness ;  might  she  not  trust 
him  a  little?  She  would  do  nothing  rash,  neverthe- 
less; nothing  to  injure  the  French  or  their  Indian 
allies. 

"Why  do  you  seek  to  learn  these  things?"  she 
inquired,  undecided. 

"  The  English  should  cultivate  the  friendship  of 

the   Great   Chief  by  pacts  and    presents,   and    thus 

secure  a  long  peace  for  Le  Detroit;   to  this  end   I 

would  fain  aid  them,"  he  responded.    "  How  can  they 

4 


50      THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

cement  this  peace  unless  they  know  in  what  part  of 
the  forest  he  lives  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes,  it  is  peace  we  need,  above  all  else,"  im- 
petuously exclaimed  Angelique.  "  And  it  is  well 
that  the  English  should  propitiate  the  Indians  of  the 
strait,  for,  I  will  tell  you  something,  —  the  red  men 
are  not  well  pleased ;  they  think  the  English  esteem 
their  friendship  as  of  small  account.  The  Great 
Chief  is  now  away  in  the  north,  among  the  Ottawas, 
the  Ojibwas,  the  Pottawattomies  and  Hurons,  yet  his 
warriors  keep  him  informed  of  all  that  goes  on  at 
Le  Detroit." 

"  But  when  he  is  in  this  vicinity,  where  may  a  mes- 
senger be  sent  to  him?  "  insisted  the  young  man. 

"  Turn  the  canoe  across  the  stream,  and  I  will 
show  you  his  haunt,"  returned  the  girl. 

So  unexpected  was  her  answer  that  Sterling  nearly 
dropped  the  paddle  as  he  hastily  complied  with  her 
request. 

"  Now  look  yonder,"  proceeded  Angelique.  "  Be- 
yond the  Isle  au  Cochon  you  have  often  remarked 
that  other  lonely  island  in  the  river;  how  black  its 
groves  appear  to-night !  We  French  call  it  the  Isle 
au  Pe"che,  because  of  its  fine  fisheries,  but  to  the 
Indians  it  is  known  as  the  burial-place  of  the  Prophet. 
When  the  Great  Chief  is  in  this  region,  it  is  there  he 
has  his  lodge ;  there  he  holds  council  with  the  mani- 
tou  of  the  strait." 

"And  his  name?"  reiterated  Sterling. 

"  He  is  called  Pontiac,"  replied  the  girl  in  a  fright- 
ened whisper,  as  though  the  very  utterance  of  the 
word  aroused  her  fear.  "  Ma  foi,  monsieur,"  she 
added  with  a  shudder,  "  paddle  swiftly,  I  pray  you. 
The  air  has  grown  chill,  and  I  would  gladly  be  at 
home  before  the  dark  falls." 


ON  THE    RIVER   AT  SUNSET          51 

Sterling  dallied  no  more,  but  applied  himself  ardu- 
ously to  his  task.  The  gloom  of  evening  was  fast 
creeping  over  the  river;  but  as  they  reached  the 
little  wharf  before  the  Cuillerier  farm,  there  came  to 
them  again  upon  the  cool  night  breeze  the  song  from 
the  bateau  of  the  care-free  voyageurs  returning  to 
the  town,  — 

"  Fritaine,  friton,  fritou,  poilon  ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha,  —  frit  a  1'huile, 
Frit  au  beurre  a  1'ognon." 


CHAPTER  FIFTH 

SIR   WILLIAM  JOHNSON 

THE  next  afternoon,  a  glance  into  the  living- 
room  of  the  Cuillerier  home  would  have  shown 
a  typical  picture  of  life  at  Le  Detroit  in  the  year 
1761.  The  room  itself,  with  its  many  contrasts  of 
light  and  shade,  presented  an  interior  that  would 
have  delighted  the  eye  of  Chardin,  the  peasant 
painter,  who,  with  his  charming  genre  pieces,  was  at 
the  time  winning  fame  in  France.  The  sunlight, 
shining  in  through  the  open  door,  brought  out  into 
relief  the  dark  rafters  hung  with  yellow-seed  corn, 
dried  pumpkins,  and  hanks  of  unbleached  yarn,  an 
effect  of  color  splendid  as  a  golden  tapestry.  It  fell 
in  a  broad  stream  upon  the  puncheon  floor  and  the 
huge  mat  of  plaited  river  grasses,  the  work  of  the 
Pani  slaves ;  it  burnished  the  flintlock  muskets 
crossed  upon  the  wall,  and  touched  lightly  the 
great  mass  of  golden-rod,  reed  mace,  or  "  cat's  tails," 
and  sedges,  wherewith  Angelique  had  filled  the  dark 
cavern  of  the  chimney. 

It  peered  also  into  the  faces  of  a  group  of  men, 
who,  from  force  of  habit,  had  drawn  the  rudely  made, 
chintz-covered  chairs  up  around  the  hearth,  where 
they  sat  in  a  half-circle,  smoking  their  red  clay  pipes, 
and  chatting  in  the  inconsequent  fashion  wherewith  a 
group  of  idlers  discuss  the  affairs  of  the  hour,  political 
or  social. 


SIR   WILLIAM   JOHNSON  53 

There,  over  against  the  loom  in  the  corner,  sat 
Antoine  Cuillerier,  a  small  man,  past  middle  age, 
with  a  swarthy  shaven  face,  restless  black  eyes,  and 
a  thin  straight  nose  ;  there  was  thick-set  Baptiste 
Meloche;  Charles  Parant,  hale  and  jovial;  shrewd 
Jacques  Campeau;  besides  St.  Aubin,  the  sturdy, 
handsome  Jacques  Godefroy,  and  keen-witted  Jacques 
Baby,1  from  across  the  river. 

"  It  is  as  I  say,"  exclaimed  Parant,  taking  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  and  watching  the  smoke  as  it  formed 
in  airy  wreaths  before  him.  "  The  hands  of  the 
French  are  tied  by  the  capitulation  of  Montreal,  and 
we  must  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain." 

"  So  think  the  British.  They  say  to  us,  '  You  may 
plough  and  sow  your  fields  as  well  as  you  can  in  your 
shackles.  We  will  take  the  corn  and  leave  you  the 
husks ;  nevertheless,  let  us  be  friends/  And  we 
answer  'Merci'  for  the  husks,  we  ask  no  more," 
growled  Jacques  Campeau.  "Bah,  some  day  they 
will  find  that  we  have  not  abandoned  our  claim  to 
Le  Detroit,  although  we  now  let  the  question  rest  in 
abeyance." 

"  Ay,  that  they  will,"  echoed  St.  Aubin  sullenly. 

"  Morbleu,  what  comes  by  the  fife  goes  back  to 
the  drum.  The  strangers  in  their  self-sufficiency 
think  the  savages  as  complaisant  as  ourselves,"  said 
Godefroy,  with  a  laugh.  "  They  have  strengthened 
the  fort  against  a  surprise  from  the  redmen,  as  a 
habitant  would  look  to  his  palisade  lest  a  loose  picket 
might  admit  a  wolf;  but  as  to  cultivating  the  friend- 
ship of  the  warriors,  as  the  French  have  always  done, 
they  regard  the  matter  as  of  the  least  importance." 

"  Ah,  were  I  in  authority,  the  state  of  affairs  would 
be  very  different,"  declared  Cuillerier,  "  for  I  believe 
1  Pronounced  Bawbee. 


54      THEj  HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

it  is  conceded  that  I  am  now  the  representative  of 
his  Majesty  of  France,  here  at  the  strait." 

He  looked  gravely  around  for  assent  to  his  words. 
Godefroy  shrugged  a  shoulder,  Meloche  scowled, 
Campeau  mumbled,  Parant  smiled,  and  Baby  grinned 
broadly.  No  one  gainsaid  Antoine  in  words,  how- 
ever, or  questioned  the  position  he  claimed  by  no 
other  title  than  his  relationship  to  the  late  com- 
mandant, De  Bellestre.  They  were,  perhaps,  too 
amused  or  too  careless. 

"  As  the  representative  of  his  Majesty,  I  will  tell 
you  this,"  continued  Cuillerier  pompously,  "  the  Great 
Chief  is  angered  against  the  English  because  of  their 
overbearing  conduct  towards  his  people.  Before 
long  King  Louis  will  send  troops  to  help  us;  then 
with  the  aid  of  our  Indian  allies  we  will  drive  the 
intruders  back  to  their  southern  land." 

"  God  grant  that  Le  Detroit  may  one  day  be  our 
own  again !  "  ejaculated  Godefroy,  with  fervor. 

"  But  how  is  it,  Antoine,  bon  homme,"  demanded 
Meloche,  "  although  you  claim  to  be  the  King's 
deputy,  yet  you  publicly  keep  on  good  terms  with 
the  newcomers  at  the  fort?  How  is  it  that  you  will, 
I  understand,  permit  your  daughter  to  be  present  at 
the  ball  given  to-night  by  the  English  officers,  at  the 
request  of  this  Sir  William  Johnson,  who  has  come 
here  to  strengthen  the  power  of  the  conquerors  at 
the  strait?  " 

"And  you,  Jacques  Baby,"  chimed  in  Godefroy, 
"  how  is  it  that  your  bateau  goes  back  and  forth  so 
often  between  your  farm  and  the  stockade ;  that  you 
are  so  frequent  a  visitor  to  the  house  of  Captain 
Campbell?" 

"  Parbleu !  it  is  because  he  buys  from  me  hogs, 
corn  meal,  and  eau-de-vie,"  returned  Baby,  with  a 


SIR  WILLIAM   JOHNSON  55 

good-natured  laugh.     "  No  man  smites  the  hand  that 
puts  money  in  his  purse." 

"  There  you  have  it,"  seconded  Antoine ;  "  one 
gains  nothing  by  quarrelling  with  the  redcoats  until 
the  time  is  ripe.  If  we  do  not  trade  with  them,  they 
will  bring  here  in  greater  numbers  their  own  lawless 
traders.  We  hate  them,  but  there  is  no  reason  why 
we  should  despise  their  gold.  Yes,  the  true  ruler  of 
the  world  is  gold ;  they  who  have  it  hold  in  their 
hands  the  reins  of  power.  As  for  the  ball  to-night, 
is  there  a  man  among  you  who  does  not  know  that 
'what  a  woman  wills,  God  wills'?  My  daughter  is 
bent  upon  going  to  the  ball,  and  that  is  an  end  of 
the  matter." 

"  Eh  bien,"  chuckled  Parant,  "  the  demoiselles 
have  their  own  way  of  vanquishing  the  British,  even 
as  we  have  ours." 

"  For  my  part,"  said  Campeau,  "  I  think  it  well  that 
the  dames  of  Le  Detroit  should  accept  the  invitation 
to  the  festivities.  Their  sharp  eyes  and  feminine 
intuitions  will  discern  for  us  what  manner  of  men  are 
these  new  masters  of  the  fort  more  speedily  than  we 
could  learn  the  same.  Trust  a  woman  for  finding  out 
a  man's  vulnerable  point,  —  ha,  ha,  ha !  I  made  no 
ado  when  my  wife  announced  that  she  would  go." 

"Campeau  was  ever  a  wise  fellow,"  whispered 
Parant  to  Meloche. 

"  I  think  not  with  you  all,"  Godefroy  broke  out 
brusquely.  "  I  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
foreigners,  even  in  pretence  of  amity,  and  my  wife 
shall  not  attend  the  ball !  " 

A  laugh  went  round. 

"  Then  I  '11  wager  a  pound  of  tobacco  there  will  be 
tears  and  a  poor  supper  at  your  lodge  to-night,  friend 
Jacques,"  cried  Cuillerier,  clapping  his  knee. 


56      THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

"  No,  no,  my  word  is  law,  and  my  wife  most  duti- 
ful," retorted  Jacques,  as,  vexed  and  impatient  at 
their  continued  laughter,  he  rose,  pushed  back  his 
chair  with  a  jerk,  and  flung  himself  out  of  the  house. 

Could  Captain  Campbell  of  the  fort  have  heard 
this  conversation,  he  would  not  perhaps  have  so  con- 
fidently assured  Sir  William  Johnson  that  the  people 
of  Le  Detroit  had  accepted  the  English  rule  with 
good  grace.  As  it  was,  sanguine  that  there  was  no 
trouble  to  be  feared  from  the  French,  and  satisfied 
after  his  great  powwow  with  the  Indians  that  they 
were  glad  to  be  allied  with  the  party  in  power,  when 
evening  came  Sir  William  was  in  the  most  genial 
of  moods. 

"Adzooks,  captain,  you  have  transformed  this 
council  chamber,  erstwhile  so  dreary,  into  a  most 
festive  ball-room,"  he  remarked  approvingly,  as  he 
glanced  about  the  main  apartment  of  the  British 
headquarters,  once  the  residence  of  Monsieur  de 
Bellestre,  who,  at  first  sent  a  prisoner  to  Niagara,  had 
been  released  and  permitted  to  return  to  Montreal. 

Captain  Campbell  smiled,  gratified  by  the  enco- 
miums of  his  chief. 

"  I  fear  it  presents  a  rude  appearance  compared  to 
the  splendors  of  Johnson  Hall,"  he  answered  politely. 
"  Some  day,  perhaps,  we  may  be  able  to  bring  fine 
furnishings  from  England;  at  present  there  is  little 
of  the  sort  in  the  town,  save  a  few  pieces  in  the 
houses  of  the  French,  brought  from  France  during 
the  old  regime ;  but  we  have  done  what  we  could." 

"  And  the  effect  is  excellent,"  repeated  Sir  William, 
as  he  raised  his  eyeglass  and  again  surveyed  the 
long,  low-studded  room,  the  sombreness  of  whose 
age  and  smoke-darkened  walls  was  relieved  by  cur- 


SIR   WILLIAM   JOHNSON  57 

tains  of  Indian  manufacture,  —  great  elkskins  tanned 
a  pale  buff  color  and  ornamented  with  dyed  porcu- 
pine quills  and  beads.  The  sides  of  the  apartment 
were  still  further  decorated  by  the  antlers  of  giant 
elks,  muskets,  powder-horns  made  from  the  horns  of 
the  buffalo,  flint-headed  and  feather-tipped  arrows, 
and  strings  of  wampum ;  the  rafters  with  festoons  of 
the  red  cotton  cloth  which  the  traders  were  wont  to 
sell  to  the  savages  in  exchange  for  their  furs.  The 
hall  was  lighted  by  hanging  lamps  of  bears'  oil,  and 
the  floor,  in  other  times  worn  smooth  by  the  feet  of 
the  councillors  of  the  commandant  of  the  French 
King,  had  now  been  made  smoother  by  a  coating  of 
wax  for  the  gay  tread  of  dancers. 

Now  the  band  of  the  garrison  struck  up  a  spirited 
air ;  the  guests  began  to  arrive ;  and  as  the  ladies  with 
their  cavaliers,  some  French,  others  English,  were 
presented  to  the  gallant  superintendent  of  Indian 
affairs,  for  each  dame  and  demoiselle  he  had,  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment,  a  special  compliment  or  word 
of  flattery. 

"  Truly,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  when  all  had  been 
made  welcome,  "  I  congratulate  your  Excellency 
upon  the  popularity  you  have  already  attained  at  the 
strait.  Here  are  twenty  ladies,  all  of  the  best  families 
of  Le  Detroit,  come  to  grace  this  happy  occasion." 

"  Egad,  and  handsomer  women  it  has  never  been 
my  fortune  to  meet,"  returned  Sir  William. 

"  With  whom  will  your  Excellency  open  the  ball?  " 
continued  Captain  Campbell.  "  Shall  it  be  with 
Madame  des  Ruisseaux,  the  white-haired  dame  who 
has  the  air  of  a  duchess,  or  Madame  Campeau?  The 
first  lady  is  connected  by  marriage  with  the  late 
French  commandant,  and  —  " 

"  I  depute  to  you,  captain,  the  honor  of  dancing 


58      THE    HEROINE    OF  THE    STRAIT 

with  these  '  grandes  dames '  in  their  prime,"  inter- 
rupted Sir  William,  with  a  quizzical  look.  "  I  have 
given  the  day  to  arduous  affairs ;  this  evening  I  shall 
please  myself.  Tell  me,  Campbell,  who  is  that 
charming  creature  who  has  just  entered  the  room 
upon  the  arm  of  a  young  man  whom  I  think  you 
made  known  to  me  this  morning?  How  is  it  you 
named  him?" 

Again  he  raised  his  eyeglass,  as  if  forsooth  his  eye 
was  not  noted  for  its  keenness. 

"  Ah,  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  call  her  charming," 
was  the  prompt  reply.  "  It  is  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier, 
the  bourgeois'  daughter ;  her  escort  is  Mr.  Sterling, 
a  Scotchman,  of  whose  services  as  French  interpreter 
we  sometimes  avail  ourselves." 

"  Humph,"  ejaculated  his  Excellency,  growing  ab- 
sent during  the  explanation,  "  it  is  with  the  exquisite 
little  Watteau  figure  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  that  I 
will  open  the  ball." 

"But,  sir — "  began  the  captain. 

"  I  shall  lead  out  the  beauty  first,"  insisted  Sir 
William. 

"  Well,  well,  after  all,  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  is 
also  related  to  Monsieur  de  Bellestre,  and  your  choice 
thus  explained  will,  I  hope,  mollify  the  other  ladies 
present,  since  you  cannot  dance  first  with  all  of 
them,"  responded  Campbell  dubiously. 

"  In  faith  I  care  not  on  what  ground  you  put  it, 
only  delay  not  to  seek  her.  For  if  upon  nearer  view 
she  is  half  so  prepossessing  as  at  this  distance,  I  shall 
tread  on  air  during  the  measures.  Besides,  it  is  not 
seemly  to  keep  the  guests  waiting,"  rejoined  the 
baronet  dryly. 

Radiant  Angelique  certainly  appeared.  Tante 
Josette  had  evidently  sacrificed  upon  the  altar  of 


SIR   WILLIAM  JOHNSON  59 

affection  the  "  white  dimity  bestrewn  with  little  pas- 
toral designs."  As  clearly,  too,  the  girl  had  sewed 
with  diligence  all  day,  and  now  in  her  fleecy  draperies 
she  looked  not  altogether  unlike  a  white  cloud  over- 
sown with  tiny  garden-plots. 

Sterling  mentally  likened  her  to  the  white  river- 
lilies  with  golden  hearts  that  he  had  plucked  for  her 
the  evening  before.  He  too  was  happy.  Angelique 
had  come  with  Madame  des  Ruisseaux,  but  she  had 
promised  him  her  hand  for  the  opening  dance;  and 
since  she  had  not  answered  him  "  nay  "  on  the  river 
last  evening,  he  began  to  take  on  the  air  of  an  ac- 
cepted lover.  Already  he  was  looking  forward  to 
another  t£te-a-t£te  with  her  upon  the  gallery,  when 
the  ball  should  be  at  its  height. 

"  A  handsome  pair  they  make,"  whispered  Madame 
St.  Aubin  to  Madame  des  Ruisseaux.  "  Monsieur 
Sterling  is  most  personable,  clad  thus  in  silver  gray, 
and  I  esteem  well  this  new  manner  of  wearing  the 
hair  unpowdered  and  tied  back  with  a  riband.  As 
for  la  belle  Angelique,  never  has  she  appeared  more 
engaging.  Where  got  she  that  frock?  In  vain  I  tried 
to  buy  a  new  one  in  the  town." 

"  Let  us  stand  aside  a  moment,"  said  Angelique  to 
her  cavalier.  "  Before  I  meet  his  Excellency  I  would 
fain  see,  to  better  advantage  than  yesterday,  what 
manner  of  man  he  is." 

They  drew  back  against  the  wall,  and  she  darted  a 
quick  glance  at  the  noted  personage  who,  among  all 
the  English,  was  reputed  to  have  the  greatest  influ- 
ence with  their  terrible  Iroquois  allies. 

"  He  is  tall  and  erect,  if  somewhat  heavy  of  weight," 
she  added,  well  pleased  with  her  scrutiny;  "and  his 
features  are,  to  my  thinking,  strong  and  manly.  He 
is  near  unto  fifty  years  of  age,  you  say,  Monsieur 


60      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

Sterling?  In  truth,  he  does  not  look  it  in  that  ruby 
colored  coat,  so  richly  guarded  with  gold  lace.  Surely, 
the  peruque  curled  thus  on  the  sides  is  a  new  fashion 
too,  and  vastly  becoming  to  the  wearer." 

Ere  she  had  finished  speaking,  Captain  Campbell 
came  towards  her. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  asked,  "  may  I  present  you  to 
Sir  William  Johnson? " 

"Thanks,  Monsieur  le  Capitaine,"  she  replied, 
"  Monsieur  Sterling  has  just  offered  to  conduct  me  to 
pay  my  respects  to  his  Excellency." 

Sterling  threw  back  his  head  proudly,  but  his 
satisfaction  was  soon  dashed. 

"  Pardon,  mademoiselle,  if  I  still  beg  the  privilege," 
continued  the  officer.  "  Sir  William  has  deputed  me 
to  request  you  to  open  the  ball  with  him." 

As  he  concluded,  the  bright  eyes  of  Angelique 
grew  brighter  with  surprise  and  pleasure  at  so  marked 
a  compliment,  and,  vouchsafing  only  a  smile  of  apology 
to  the  Scotchman,  she  suffered  the  colonel  to  lead  her 
away. 

In  another  moment  she  was  curtseying  before  the 
great  man.  Sir  William  in  turn  bowed  low  over  her 
hand,  as  he  took  it  in  his  own. 

"You  will  pardon  me,  mademoiselle,  that  from 
among  all  the  fair  women  present  I  have  singled  you 
out  as  the  most  beautiful,"  he  said  impressively. 

The  girl  blushed  rosy  red. 

"  Your  Excellency  is  most  gracious,"  she  stam- 
mered. 

"And  you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  tread  the 
minuet  with  me  ? "  he  pursued,  pressing  the  little  hand 
he  still  retained. 

"  The  distinction  is  mine,  your  Excellency,"  was 
her  response. 


SIR   WILLIAM   JOHNSON  61 

Forthwith,  to  the  music  of  "  Rule  Britannia,"  al- 
though the  prettily  confused  damsel  knew  not  the 
air,  nor  did  the  other  French  among  the  company,  he 
led  her  to  the  top  of  the  room,  followed  by  the  other 
officers  and  gentlemen,  who  had  already  engaged  their 
partners. 

To  simple  little  Angelique  it  seemed  as  though  the 
ceremonious  court  dance  could  never  before  have 
been  so  stately  and  graceful.  Her  uncle,  De  Bellestre, 
was  the  personification  of  courtliness ;  but  this  Sir 
Johnson  not  only  bowed  to  her  as  though  she  were  a 
princess  royal,  but  as  though  she  were  a  princess 
royal  for  whom  he  entertained  a  most  respectful  but 
hopeless  devotion. 

When  the  minuet  was  over,  Sterling  pressed  for- 
ward to  claim  her  for  the  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  but 
he  presently  muttered  a  forcible  epithet  under  his 
breath,  as  the  doughty  baronet  declared  that  Made- 
moiselle Angelique  must  again  favor  him  for  the 
reel. 

By  the  time  it  was  finished  Angelique  felt  on  terms 
of  old  friendship  with  Sir  William.  He  laughed  and 
jested  with  her  now,  and  she  grew  vivacious,  spar- 
kling. She  even  told  him  the  story  of  the  odd  silk 
mitten,  and  confided  to  him  how,  when  presented  to 
him,  she  had  worn  it  on  the  right  hand,  although 
it  was  meant  for  the  left,  and  had  tried  to  conceal  the 
mittenless  hand  in  the  folds  of  her  frock.  Thereat, 
he  pretended  to  have  detected  the  ruse,  but  vowed 
she  should  have,  by  an  early  English  convoy,  a  pair 
of  the  finest  gloves  to  be  obtained  from  London,  as 
a  souvenir  of  this  evening,  which  he  would  always 
remember. 

Yet  the  other  ladies  were  not  neglected.  While 
the  gallant  superintendent  was  making  peace  with 


62      THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

them,  Major  Gladwin  danced  with  the  belle,  though 
he  said  he  was  fighting  an  attack  of  ague.  Later, 
she  gave  a  dance  to  Captain  Campbell,  and  then  one 
to  Lieutenant  McDougal.  During  the  evening  Ster- 
ling secured  from  her  but  a  "  gavotte"  and  a  "jig  a 
deux,"  wherein  he  acquitted  himself  ill,  "  not  being 
familiar  with  these  French  gambols,"  he  sullenly  de- 
clared. His  heart  was  hot  with  anger. 

The  joyous  manner  wherewith  the  capricious  demoi- 
selle permitted  her  attention  to  be  engrossed  by  these 
strangers,  of  distinguished  position  though  they  were, 
her  apparent  forgetfulness  of  himself,  galled  him 
almost  to  madness.  Why,  even  Robishe  Navarre  had 
two  dances  with  her,  and,  in  consequence,  Archange 
de  Mersac,  who  had  given  Sterling  the  quadrille, 
seemed  as  out  of  humor  as  himself. 

"Angelique  is  but  a  heartless  coquette,"  he  mut- 
tered bitterly,  as  he  watched  her.  "  I  told  her,  awhile 
since,  she  was  like  a  pretty,  white  wood  pigeon ;  but 
when  the  pigeon  ventures  out  of  the  wood  it  is  in 
danger  of  being  caught  in  a  snare.  'T  was  surely 
Lucifer  who  taught  women  to  dance !  Angelique 
seeks,  strives,  cares,  only  for  admiration;  what  a  fool 
I  was  to  hope  she  might  one  day  love  me!  Love? 
She  loves  only  her  own  fair  face  in  the  looking-glass. 
Still,  the  butterfly  should  not  flutter  too  near  the 
devouring  flame;  the  wood  pigeon  should  remain  in 
the  wood.  Ah,  perhaps  I  may  yet  have  five  minutes 
with  her,"  he  exclaimed,  as,  seeing  that  she  was  for 
the  moment  disengaged,  he  abruptly  checked  his 
morose  meditations  and  hastened  to  her  side. 

"  Mademoiselle,  will  you  take  a  turn  upon  the 
gallery?"  he  said. 

Angelique  looked  up  into  his  face ;  it  was  grave, 
almost  stern. 


SIR   WILLIAM  JOHNSON  63 

"  I  have  been  unkind  to  him,  and  he  is  always  so 
courteous  to  me,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  No  doubt 
he  saw  me  promenading  with  Major  Gladwin,  and 
I  promised  him  quarter  of  an  hour  in  the  moon- 
light. Well,  the  moon  did  not  rise  until  late."  Her 
sudden  remorse  rendered  her  very  sweet  and  win- 
ning, as,  folding  her  silken  scarf  about  her  shoulders, 
she  stepped  out  with  him  into  the  mild  evening  air. 

Alack,  why  had  he  not  the  wisdom  to  be  content 
with  the  bliss  of  the  moment  without  torturing  his 
soul  with  thought  of  the  past  or  the  future?  No, 
he  must  needs  dash  from  him  the  cup  of  his  present 
happiness  before  he  had  tasted  it. 

"  You  have  had  a  pleasant  evening,  mademoiselle," 
he  began.  "  For  my  part,  I  seldom  watch  a  woman 
dancing  but  I  think  of  Salome,  the  daughter  of  Hero- 
dias,  who  claimed  as  the  reward  of  her  dance  the 
head  of  the  prophet  served  up  on  a  golden  salver." 

Angelique  started.  But,  feeling  that  she  had 
vexed  him,  she  resolved  to  overlook  his  brusqueness. 

"Vraiment,  it  is  most  commendable  in  you,  mon- 
sieur, that  you  sometimes  reflect  upon  Holy  Writ," 
she  rejoined  serenely.  "  Nevertheless,  why  do  peo- 
ple go  to  a  ball  if  not  to  dance? " 

"Oh,  as  a  diversion,  or  a  healthful  exercise,  it  may 
be  well  at  times,"  was  his  inconsequent  reply.  "  Yet 
to-night,  pardon  me,  —  to-night,  mademoiselle,  to  my 
thinking,  you  were  not  altogether  fortunate  in  your 
choice  of  partners." 

The  girl  had  listened  with  a  smile  half  of  amuse- 
ment, half  of  incredulity,  to  his  wiseacre  remark,  but 
as  he  concluded  she  let  fall  her  hand  from  his  arm, 
and  faced  him  with  a  dignity  which  he  would  have 
admired  had  he  not  been  so  carried  away  by  his 
irritation. 


64      THE    HEROINE  OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  Monsieur,"  she  said  quietly,  "  you  have  no  right 
to  take  me  thus  to  task.  At  a  ball,  as  in  life,  a  woman's 
choice  depends  often  upon  what  comes  to  her.  If 
I  have  been  complimented  by  some  attention  from 
the  guest  of  the  evening  and  the  new  commandant, 
I  fail  to  see  wherein  I  have  done  aught  to  merit 
either  praise  or  blame  from  any  one." 

"  Ah,  Angelique,  your  pretty  head  has  been  turned 
by  the  smooth  speeches  of  this  Sir  William  John- 
son," cried  Sterling,  losing  the  remnant  of  his  self- 
command.  "He  would  have  you  believe  that  his 
heart  is  already  beneath  your  feet ;  it  is  his  way  with 
women.  I  thought,  however,  that  you  liked  not  the 
English?" 

"  He  calls  himself  an  Irishman,"  she  argued. 

"  He  is  such  only  in  his  agreeable  manners,  his  wit 
and  cleverness,  and  in  the  fact  that  he  happened  to 
be  born  on  the  western  shore  of  St.  George's  channel. 
But,  able  and  brilliant  official  of  England  though  he 
be,  I  do  not  care  to  have  the  woman  I  would  make 
my  wife  honor  him  again  with  her  hand  in  the 
dance." 

Angelique's  spirit  rose.  It  was  clear  that  her 
lover  was  insanely  jealous,  and  she  resented  his 
dictatorial  tone. 

"Thanks,  monsieur,"  she  said,  dropping  him  a 
courtesy.  "Where  you  seek  a  wife  is  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  me,  yet  you  had  best  look  to  it  that 
she  be  one  willing  to  remain  at  home  by  your  fire 
and  not  stir  abroad,  for  she  will  have  no  easy  task- 
master." 

"  Angelique,"  he  asseverated,  "  I  did  not  mean  to 
speak  harshly ;  to-night  I  have  been  provoked  be- 
yond endurance.  It  is  my  love  for  you  that  has 
kindled  this  anger.  But,  if  you  continue  to  coquet 


SIR   WILLIAM   JOHNSON  65 

with  this  man,  who,  though  ready  enough  to  make 
love,  is  as  ready  to  forget ;  if  you  prefer  the  poisoned 
honey  of  idle  flattery  to  the  love  of  an  honest  heart, 
then  dearly  as  I  love  you,  I  will  banish  my  yearn- 
ing for  you  from  my  soul.  I  will  not  love  you  any 
more." 

Angelique  was  now'  as  exasperated  as  himself. 
Perhaps  it  was  for  this  reason  that  she  answered  his 
passionate  speech  by  a  ripple  of  careless  laughter, 
that  reminded  him  of  the  music  of  a  woodland  cas- 
cade as  it  fell  over  the  sharp  rocks  and  hid  in  the 
stony  heart  of  the  ravine. 

"  Of  a  verity,  monsieur,  you  have  a  taste  for 
romance,"  she  cried ;  "  you  should  have  lived  at  the 
strait  in  the  day  of  the  Sieur  de  Cadillac.  Yesterday 
you  told  me  that  you  loved  me ;  you  love  me  now, 
you  say,  but  you  will  not  love  me  to-morrow.  Eh 
bien,  I  value  not  a  love  that  alters  thus  with  every 
wind.  You  had  best  begin  at  once  not  to  love  me. 
I  am  free,  and  you  have  much  effrontery  to  expect 
me  to  govern  my  actions  according  to  what  may 
please  you.  Such  audacity  is  not  to  be  lightly 
pardoned." 

"  Angelique,  I  have  been  far  too  blunt,  and  I  beg 
you  to  forgive  me,"  protested  the  young  Scotchman, 
as  he  laid  a  hand  upon  her  scarf  to  detain  her.  But 
petulantly  withdrawing  the  soft  silk  from  his  clasp, 
she  re-entered  the  ball-room  and  sought  out  Madame 
des  Ruisseaux. 

That  night  she  passed  at  the  house  of  this  lady 
within  the  palisade,  returning  home  the  next  after- 
noon. 

How  glad  she  was  to  get  back  to  her  day  dreaming 
in  the  recess  of  the  window  of  the  loft  Above  her 
little  looking-glass  hung  a  chaplet  of  prayer-beads, 
S 


66      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

strung  of  white  wampum  shells  by  the  deft  fingers 
of  Indian  maidens  under  the  instruction  of  Father 
Potier  of  the  Huron  Mission.  For  a  moment  the  girl 
hesitated  before  them.  Had  she  taken  the  chaplet, 
perchance  many  things  would  have  been  more  fortu- 
nate for  Sterling;  but  it  was  the  fateful  mirror  of 
Angelique  de  Meloise  that  she  chose. 

"  Ma  foi,  if  we  do  not  suit  some  folk,  there  are 
others  who  think  us  pleasing  enough,"  she  said  to  the 
piquant  face  that  looked  out  from  within  the  circlet 
of  the  old  carved  wood  frame,  and  smiled  back  at  her 
reassuringly.  "  We  will  not  be  lectured,  you  and  I. 
No ;  we  will  dance,  and  laugh,  and  be  merry  when- 
ever it  is  to  our  mind." 

She  kissed  her  hand  to  the  demoiselle  in  the  glass, 
and  then,  a  little  ashamed  of  having  wasted  a  whole 
half-hour,  hurried  down  to  the  hearthroom,  to  live 
over  again  the  happy  moments  of  the  evening  before, 
in  relating  the  incidents  of  the  ball  to  the  confidante 
of  her  girlish  triumphs,  "  cette  chere  Tante  Josette." 


CHAPTER  SIXTH 

THE  BLACK   RAIN 

THE  fortnight  that  followed  was  long  remembered 
at  the  strait.  Sir  William  Johnson  devoted 
each  day  to  the  affairs  of  the  post,  and  held  many 
conferences  with  the  Indians.  But  the  evenings  he 
spent  in  social  pleasures,  and  so  great  a  popularity 
did  his  genial  disposition  win  for  him  among  the 
French,  that  he  was  fSted  with  lavish  hospitality  by 
the  best  families  of  the  little  town. 

He  himself  gave  a  ball,  which  was  even  more  bril- 
liant than  the  first.  He  entertained  at  dinner  the 
Vicar,  Monsieur  de  Bocquet,  cure  of  Ste.  Anne's, 
and  Father  Potier,  together  with  all  the  French 
gentlemen  of  Le  Detroit,  including  Colonel  Du 
Quesne  and  Major  La  Mothe,  who  had  not  long  before 
been  forced  to  surrender  their  swords  to  him  at 
Niagara.  He  crossed  the  river  to  visit  the  Huron 
village,  where  the  warriors  were  drawn  up  in  line  and 
fired  a  military  salute  in  his  honor.  He  addressed 
their  council,  and  afterwards  took  supper  with  Father 
Potier.  Finally  when,  on  the  i/th  of  September,  he 
embarked  for  his  return  homeward,  he  left  behind 
him  a  most  favorable  impression. 

The  leading  settlers,  the  cure,  and  the  missionary 
had  found  the  superintendent  of  Indian  affairs  to  be 
an  official  of  large  experience  and  remarkable  capac- 
ity. He  had  gained  the  respect  of  the  redmen  by 
the  consideration  he  showed  them,  the  attentive  ear 


68      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

he  lent  to  the  story  of  their  grievances,  and  his 
promise  that  these  should  be  speedily  righted. 
While,  with  the  fair  sex,  his  witty  and  gallant 
speeches,  his  deferential  manner  and  unfailing  good 
humor,  had  rendered  him  so  great  a  favorite  that 
what  the  capitulation  had  been  powerless  to  effect,  he 
accomplished  by  the  charm  of  his  personality;  the 
women  of  Le  Detroit  had  become,  for  the  time  being 
at  least,  the  firm  friends  of  the  English. 

Not  that  they  were  grown  cold  in  their  allegiance  to 
New  France  —  far  from  it ;  but  as  Charles  Parant  had 
said  at  the  house  of  Cuillerier,  the  capitulation  had 
been  a  bad  bargain,  and  they  must  make  the  best  of  it. 

After  the  departure  of  the  British  convoy  down  the 
Lake  of  the  Eries,  the  season  of  merriment,  so  well 
inaugurated,  continued  for  many  weeks.  Among  the 
French  there  was  dancing  to  the  strains  of  the  violin 
at  one  another's  houses.  The  men  had  horse  rac- 
ing, since,  if  somewhat  tardily,  the  hardy  Canadian 
pony  had  been  introduced  into  the  settlement  some 
twenty  years  before ;  and,  when  winter  came,  these 
contests  were  continued  on  the  frozen  surface  of  the 
strait  and  of  the  small  river  Rouge.  There  were 
games  of  lacrosse  between  the  coureurs  de  bois  and 
the  Indians ;  sometimes,  too,  the  French  and  English 
played  at  bowling  with  cannon  balls  in  the  narrow 
streets  within  the  stockade. 

For  both  young  cavaliers  and  heads  of  families, 
dames  and  demoiselles,  there  were  gatherings  for 
story-telling  around  the  broad  hearths,  whereon  blazed 
great  logs  from  the  forest;  skating  and  snowshoeing 
parties,  and  merry  drives  along  the  icy  roadbed  of 
Le  Detroit  in  rudely  made  but  comfortable  "  train- 
eaux,"  or  sledges,  lined  with  the  thick  furs  of  the 
buffalo  and  bear. 


THE   BLACK   RAIN  69 

Major  Gladwin,  having  suffered  much  from  the 
fever  of  the  marshes  which  he  had  contracted  during 
the  journey  from  Niagara,  had  gone  on  furlough  to 
England,  leaving  Captain  Campbell  again  comman- 
dant at  the  fort.  The  gallant  captain,  Lieutenant 
McDougal,  and  the  other  officers  took  part  in  many 
of  the  diversions  of  the  French. 

During  this  pleasant  winter,  Mademoiselle  Ange- 
lique  Cuillerier  was  the  gayest  of  the  gay.  At  the 
ball  given  by  the  able  superintendent  of  Indian 
affairs,  as  a  leave-taking,  no  pretty  demoiselle  had 
danced  more  blithely  than  she,  none  had  received 
more  attention  from  the  distinguished  host.  "  A  fine 
girl,"  Sir  William  had  named  her,  with  bluff  candor; 
and  for  the  "jour  de  Tan"  (New  Year's  Day),  a 
letter  came  to  her  written  in  his  own  hand,  and 
couched  in  the  language  of  flowery  compliment. 

Nevertheless,  now  the  sprightly  damsel  only  laughed 
at  its  flattering  phrases. 

"  T  was  diverting  enough  to  be  the  envied  of  all 
the  dames  and  demoiselles  because  of  the  distinction 
he  paid  me  while  he  was  here,"  she  confided  to  Tante 
Josette.  "  Ma  foi,  the  gallant  Sir  William  is  a  great 
man,  but  he  is  also  almost  an  old  man,  as  old  as  my 
father.  Moreover,  although  he  was  never  wanting  in 
respect  to  me,  his  jests  were  not  always  to  my  liking. 
I  fancied  him  not  nearly  so  well  as  I  do  Major  Glad- 
win,  for  instance.  Rarely  handsome  is  the  English- 
man, do  you  not  think  so,  ma  Tante  ?  Brusque  and 
taciturn  he  is  indeed  at  times,  but  much  esteemed  in 
the  service,  think  you  not,  since,  though  still  young, 
he  is  in  command  of  so  important  a  post  to  the  Eng- 
lish as  this,  our  Detroit  ?  " 

Of  Sterling  she  said  not  a  word ;  whereat  the  good 
Tante  Josette  was  much  puzzled. 


70      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

In  truth,  Angelique  had  made  more  than  one 
attempt  to  draw  the  young  Scotchman  back  to  her 
side;  but  all  her  pretty  ruses  were  unheeded.  With 
his  lively  spirits  and  his  flute  playing,  he  was  the 
life  of  many  a  fireside  company  and  as  a  story-teller 
had  few  equals.  At  lacrosse  and  bowling,  as  well  as 
all  the  winter  sports,  he  was  a  vigorous  player;  with 
Archange  de  Mersac,  Marianne  de  St.  Ours,  and 
others  he  was  affable  enough,  but  toward  herself 
his  manner  was  ever  distant.  This  behavior  piqued 
and  offended  her.  The  volatile  light-heartedness  of 
the  French-Canadian  character,  its  excitability,  its 
proneness  to  sudden  anger  and  as  sudden  ignoring  of 
all  things  annoying,  this  she  knew  well.  But  a  char- 
acter that  could  be  sportive  and  yet  inflexible,  she 
did  not  comprehend.  Under  similar  circumstances, 
she  could  have  predicted  what  Robishe  Navarre,  son 
of  Robert  the  Writer,  or  Jasmin  de  Joncaire  would 
have  done ;  but  Sterling's  very  good  temper  seemed 
a  wall  of  adamant  between  herself  and  him. 

Of  a  surety,  he  thought  her  vain  and  frivolous. 
How  often  his  last  words  to  her  on  the  evening  of 
Captain  Campbell's  ball  echoed  in  her  heart  like  a 
knell,  —  "I  will  banish  the  yearning  for  you  from  my 
soul.  I  will  not  love  you  any  more." 

"  Oh,  he  does  not  understand,  either,"  the  girl 
sometimes  ejaculated  passionately,  when  alone  in  her 
little  corner  under  the  eaves.  "  He  does  not  know  that 
a  French-Canadian  demoiselle  must  be  gay ;  that 
words  of  compliment  are  to  her  as  the  comfits  made 
of  the  sugar  of  the  maple  trees,  which  the  Indian 
women  bring  from  the  forest  ;  that  if  she  is  even 
passably  well-favored,  she  looks  to  be  flattered  for 
her  beauty.  Her  coquetry  is  as  harmless  as  her 
laughter ;  and,  notwithstanding  her  seeming  indiffer- 


THE    BLACK   RAIN  71 

ence,  she  can  feel  deeply.  To  the  cavaliers  of  New 
France  this  is  plain  enough  ;  between  herself  and 
them  there  is  an  innocent  cameraderie  that  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  heart.  But  this  flute-playing 
Scotchman  must  make  an  ado  over  a  slight  quarrel ; 
besides,  as  I  told  him,  he  had  no  right  to  take  me  to 
task  at  all." 

Angelique  was  uneasily  conscious  that  she  had 
swept  away  his  sweet  illusions  regarding  her,  —  she 
who  would  not  ruthlessly  brush  aside  a  spider's  web, 
lest  to  do  so  might  bring  her  misfortune.  But  she 
decided  that  she  would  trouble  her  head  about  Ster- 
ling no  more.  "  No,  not  while  two  such  courteous 
chevaliers  as  Colonel  Du  Quesne  and  Major  La  Mothe 
resided  on  parole  at  the  strait,"  she  soliloquized ;  "  not 
while  the  officers  at  Fort  Pontchartrain  were  so  agree- 
able and  friendly." 

Time  slipped  away,  giddy  paced  as  the  feet  of 
dancers.  The  woods  budded,  took  on  their  luxuriant 
summer  foliage,  and  presently  were  ablaze  with  crim- 
son and  flame-color,  as  though  the  whole  forest  were 
some  mighty  Indian  council  fire,  kindled  by  the  torch 
of  the  autumnal  sun.  Beneath  the  rippling  tide  of 
gayety  at  Le  Detroit  there  had  been  all  along  an 
undercurrent  of  anxiety  on  the  part  of  the  masters  of 
the  fort,  of  discontent  among  the  older  settlers,  and 
disaffection  among  the  savages. 

One  day,  in  the  first  part  of  October,  pretty  Ange- 
lique Cuillerier,  who  had  been  on  a  visit  to  her  friend 
Clotilde  Godefroy,  set  out  to  return  home.  She  had 
some  distance  to  go,  but  the  walk  along  the  river 
bank  was  usually  attractive.  To-day  the  skies  had 
been  lowering  since  early  morning,  and  for  an  hour 
had  been  becoming  more  overcast. 

Angelique,    however,    little    minded    the    "  sullen 


72      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

weather"  (for  thus  to  Clotilde  she  termed  the  heavi- 
ness of  the  clouds).  Folding  her  cloak  of  scarlet 
cloth  around  her  lithe  figure,  and  drawing  its  jaunty 
capouch  well  over  her  head,  she  tripped  onward, 
stopping  occasionally,  now  to  possess  herself  of  a 
spray  of  red  sumach  leaves,  again  to  gather  a  bunch 
of  Michaelmas  daisies  along  the  way. 

While  she  loitered,  plucking  the  petals  of  the  for- 
tune-telling flower,  one  by  one,  as  she  put  to  it  the 
query,  "  Does  he  love  me  ?  Yes,  a  little,  —  not  at 
all?"  —  a  raindrop  touched  her  soft  cheek. 

"  Ma  foi,  I  should  have  been  at  home  before  this, 
and  spinning  by  the  hearth-fire,"  she  said.  "  I  must 
make  haste.  How  dark  it  has  grown !  " 

A  gust  of  wind  caught  her  cloak  and  began  to 
sport  with  it,  as  though,  like  her  pestering  lovers, 
fain  to  claim  of  her  a  souvenir. 

To  get  the  better  of  the  gale,  she  wheeled  about. 
The  loneliness  of  her  surroundings,  the  dreariness  of 
the  landscape,  aroused  in  her  a  disquietude  she  had 
never  before  experienced  when  thus  alone. 

"  What  a  strange  gloom  is  settling  on  the  river,  and 
how  hurriedly  the  men  in  the  bateau  yonder  are  pull- 
ing down  the  stream,  as  though  they  would  leave  even 
the  swift  current  far  behind,"  she  reflected.  "And 
those  Indian  canoes,  how  they  dart  for  the  shore ! 
The  savages  must  apprehend  a  severe  storm  when 
they  betray  such  concern.  What  is  that  cry  from 
the  Ottawa  village  across  the  strait —  a  barbaric 
chant  and  incantation  to  the  manitou  of  the  tempest? 
It  must  be;  at  times  like  this,  the  children  of  the 
forest  forget  the  teaching  of  Father  Potier,  and  return 
to  their  pagan  rites.  How  it  frightens  me !  Ah, 
thank  Heaven  it  is  ended,  at  least  for  a  time.  But, 
mon  Dieu,  how  the  marshes  of  wind-mill  point  are  lit 


THE   BLACK   RAIN  73 

up  by  the  feu  follet ! 1  How  its  flames  burn  about 
the  ruined  mill  that  the  old  miller's  daughter  willed 
to  the  devil  long  since !  I  thank  Providence  I  have 
not  that  part  of  the  road  to  travel,  since  wanderers 
are  ever  in  danger  of  being  enticed  away  by  the  phan- 
tom lights,  and  forced  to  grind  the  devil's  grist.  I 
have  heard  of  more  than  one  who  thus  disappeared 
in  other  years,  and  left  no  trace  behind." 

Angelique  shuddered,  and  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  upon  her  forehead  and  breast,  as  she  quickened 
her  pace. 

"Am  I  going  blind?"  she  gasped,  rubbing  her 
eyes.  But  no,  her  sight  had  never  been  keener;  it 
was  the  whole  world  that  seemed  on  the  point  of 
being  blotted  out.  The  rain  had  begun  to  fall 
steadily;  it  dotted  her  cloak  as  with  bullet  marks. 
She  caught  some  of  it  in  her  hand :  the  drops  were 
black  as  soot  A  darkness  enwrapped  the  forest  and 
shrouded  the  opposite  shore  of  the  river ;  the  white 
houses  of  the  cote  disappeared  from  her  view.  Now 
she  could  no  longer  see  the  angry  waters  of  the 
strait,  although  they  must  be  within  a  few  rods  of 
where  she  stood.  Soon  the  road  was  shut  off  by  a 
dark,  thick  mist,  but,  fortunately,  not  before  she  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  red  chimneys  and  strong 
timbers  of  a  habitant's  home. 

"  I  will  make  my  way  there,"  she  said. 

Yet,  where  was  it  now?  Between  this  appalling 
darkness  and  the  wind  tugging  at  her  cloak,  forcing  her 
round  and  round,  she  had  become  utterly  confused. 

The  alarmed  girl  listened  for  the  voice  of  the  river, 

hoping  it  would  guide  her  safely.     The  sound  of  the 

rushing  waters  was,  however,  lost,  so  loud  was  the 

lamenting  of  the  wind.     One  might  almost  as  well  be 

i  Will-o'-the-wisp. 


74      THE   HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

out  on  the  strait  in  a  canoe  without  a  paddle !  She 
could  not  see  two  feet  ahead,  and  to  go  farther  might 
be  to  plunge  into  the  swirling  current. 

Disheartened,  Angelique  sank  down  beside  a  bush, 
to  whose  branches  she  had  clung,  as  her  only  land- 
mark. If  it  were  only  possible  to  shut  out  from  her 
ears  the  terrified  cry  of  the  cattle  and  ponies  in  the 
fields  and  farm-sheds,  poor  beasts  crazed  with  the 
panic  that  makes  wild  creatures  of  the  mild  domestic 
animals ! 

"  Nom  de  Dieu,  is  it  that  the  last  day  of  the  world 
has  arrived?"  exclaimed  the  girl,  getting  upon  her 
knees.  And  now  there  came  to  her  a  still  more  dread- 
ful sound,  —  the  howling  of  the  wolves.  Even  to 
the  heart  of  the  wilderness  must  this  strange  terror, 
this  shuddering  of  Nature,  have  penetrated  and 
driven  these  savage  creatures  to  the  edge  of  the 
wood.  Their  hoarse  bark  drew  nearer.  Good  God, 
would  they  fall  upon  and  devour  her  in  this  horrible 
dusk? 

The  rain,  now  pouring  down  in  torrents,  emitted  a 
noisome  odor  that  made  her  faint  and  ill.  She  sank 
lower  upon  the  grass,  ejaculating, — 

"What  will  it  avail  me  to  struggle  longer?  God 
has  visited  his  wrath  upon  us ;  if  we  are  all  to  die,  I 
may  as  well  die  here  as  elsewhere !  " 

At  this  moment,  above  the  fury  of  the  storm,  there 
came  to  her  through  the  sulphurous  air  a  message  of 
hope.  It  was  the  bell  of  the  parish  church,  ringing 
out  amid  the  gloom  to  lead  safely,  as  to  the  feet  of 
the  good  Ste.  Anne,  any  wayfarers  who  might  be 
lost  on  the  prairie.  And  presently,  from  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  echoed  more  faintly  the  call  of  the 
bell  of  the  mission  chapel.  Like  angel  voices,  these 
bells  also  warned  the  inhabitants  of  Le  Detroit,  civi- 


THE    BLACK    RAIN  75 

lized  and  savage,  to  unite  in  supplication  that  Provi- 
dence would  guard  them  from  injury  during  the 
havoc  of  the  storm ;  they  cried  out  to  the  angry 
heavens  a  petition  that  God  would  have  mercy  on 
His  people. 

Their  tone  of  cheer  seemed  to  give  new  life  to 
Angelique.  Drawing  forth  her  chaplet  of  wampum 
shells  from  beneath  her  kerchief,  she  began  to  tell 
the  beads  devoutly,  gaining  courage  in  prayer.  After 
a  time  she  started  up,  and,  guided  by  the  bells, 
pressed  onward. 

An  hour  earlier,  in  the  hearthroom  of  the  Cuille- 
rier  homestead,  "  la  bonne  mere,"  rotund  and  rosy, 
stood  directing  the  work  of  a  Pani  woman  at  the 
loom,  while  slight  and  graceful  Tante  Josette  (of 
whom,  in  her  youth,  Angelique  was  now  a  picture) 
sat  spinning  by  the  fire. 

So  intent  were  they  upon  their  occupations  that, 
for  an  interval,  they  paid  small  heed  to  the  deepening 
shadows.  At  last,  however,  Dame  Cuillerier  arrested 
the  task  of  the  slave. 

"  I  can  no  longer  see,"  she  said. 

"  Nor  I,"  cried  Tante  Josette,  rising  from  her  chair. 
"  I  cannot  watch  the  thread,  and  but  dimly  discern 
the  wool  upon  the  distaff." 

"It  threatens  to  be  a  great  tempest,"  she  con- 
tinued, going  to  the  window.  "  How  swollen  the 
river  is,  and  one  would  think  the  night  was  setting 
in,  although  we  should  have  still  some  hours  of 
daylight." 

"  Thank  Heaven,  the  children  have  returned  from 
the  catechism  class,  and  are  above  in  the  loft;  but 
where  are  my  good  man,  my  tall  sons,  and  Ange- 
lique," began  Dame  Cuillerier  distractedly. 


76      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  Chut,  be  not  so  affrighted,  madame,"  counselled 
Xante  Josette,  seeking  to  control  her  own  fears  in 
order  to  calm  those  of  her  sister-in-law.  "  My 
brother  Antoine  and  your  older  sons  are  at  the 
stockade,  and  will  stay  with  some  of  our  friends 
there.  Angelique  will  of  course  remain  with  Madame 
Godefroy  until  the  storm  is  over." 

"  Toussaint,"  interrupted  Madame  Cuillerier,  turn- 
ing to  a  Pani  man-servant,  "  take  a  mount  and  go  for 
mademoiselle.  If  she  has  set  out,  you  will  meet  her 
on  the  way." 

"The  horses  were  ridden  by  my  master  and  the 
young  messieurs  to  the  town,  madame,"  answered 
Toussaint. 

"  Then  take  with  you  two  or  three  farm  boys,  and 
go  afoot,"  ordered  the  mistress;  and  Toussaint  dis- 
appeared forthwith. 

As  the  searching  party  passed  out  of  the  gate  of 
the  palisade,  a  horse  galloped  in.  Another  moment, 
and  he  stood  before  the  door,  quivering  with  excite- 
ment, while  a  young  trader  flung  himself  from  the 
saddle,  threw  the  bridle  to  a  slave  boy,  and  entered 
the  house,  to  be  cordially  greeted  by  the  two  ladies. 

"  My  friend,  you  have  come  in  out  of  the  rain 
none  too  soon,"  said  Dame  Cuillerier,  motioning  him 
to  a  settle  in  the  chimney-corner.  "  Let  the  Pani 
take  your  cloak ;  a  mug  of  cidre  au  charbon  '  [mulled 
cider]  will  keep  you  from  a  chill.  Or  shall  it  be, 
rather,  a  '  petit  verre  d'eau-de-vie '  ?  " 

"  I  appreciate  your  kind  hospitality,  madame,"  re- 
joined the  young  man,  with  a  bow  declining  the 
invitation  to  be  seated,  "but  I  drew  rein  only  & 
speak  a  word  to  Antoine  Cuillerier  on  the  matter  of 
some  furs  for  which  I  wish  to  bargain  with  certain 
redmen  before  they  depart  for  the  hunting.  Since 


THE    BLACK   RAIN  77 

the  bourgeois  is  trusted  by  the  Indians,  I  would  ask 
him  to  tell  these  Ottawas  I  will  deal  justly  with 
them." 

"  Sir,  my  husband  is  gone  to  the  fort,"  replied  "  la 
bonne  mere."  "  You  had  best  await  his  return. 
There  is  some  excellent  tobacco  on  the  shelf,  and 
its  fragrance  is  not  unpleasant  to  us.  Jean,"  she 
added  to  another  little  slave  who  crouched  in  a 
corner,  "  a  pipe  for  your  master's  guest." 

"  Madame,  I  thank  you  again,"  replied  the  latter. 
"  Still,  I  had  best  go  on.  Monsieur  Cuillerier  is  like 
to  be  delayed  by  the  storm,  which  is  only  just  begin- 
ning, and  I  am  anxious  to  reach  the  town  before  it 
breaks  in  its  full  strength.  I  hope  all  the  others  of 
your  household  are  within  doors,  for  this  promises  to 
be  no  ordinary  tempest.  The  air  smells  of  brim- 
stone and,  abroad  on  the  prairie,  the  wind  bays  as  if 
Cerberus  and  all  the  dogs  of  hell  were  unloosed." 

"  Mon  Dieu,  you  terrify  me,  monsieur !  "  cried  the 
dame ;  "  for  my  daughter,  who  went  to  visit  Madame 
Godefroy,  is  not  yet  returned." 

"  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  may  be  out  in  the  storm? 
Good  God !  I  will  go  at  once  to  seek  her,"  he 
exclaimed. 

"  The  servants  have  gone,"  protested  the  mother. 
A  minute  more,  and  he  was  again  in  the  saddle  and 
urging  his  horse  to  a  rapid  pace  over  the  rough 
ground. 

Meanwhile  Angelique  had  pressed  on,  growing 
more  and  more  perplexed.  Her  head  seemed  going 
round,  and  now  even  the  voices  of  the  bells  be- 
wildered her. 

"  Why  has  not  some  one  been  sent  from  home  to 
meet  me?"  she  sobbed,  her  nerves  unstrung  from 
fear  and  fatigue.  "  Why  did  I  remain  so  long  with 


;8      THE   HEROINE   OF  THE   STRAIT 

Clotilde,  or,  having  remained,  why  did  I  set  out  when 
the  skies  were  so  ominous  ?  Why  did  I  not  stop  at 
the  town?  Is  my  mother  going  to  leave  me  to  die 
alone  on  the  prairie?  Surely,  in  the  houses  along  the 
c6te  the  lamps  must  have  been  lighted !  Perhaps  by 
'  looking  Indian '  I  may  be  able  to  distinguish  the 
glow  of  some  friendly  hearth  not  too  distant  for  me 
to  reach  it." 

At  the  thought,  she  lay  prone  upon  the  grass,  as 
the  savages  were  wont  to  watch  for  an  enemy  or 
friend  who  might  be  afar  off  on  the  plain.  Thus  they 
were  enabled  to  announce  the  coming  of  a  traveller, 
hours  before  he  appeared  at  the  settlement. 

Ah,  the  attempt  was  successful !  Through  the 
thick  fog  penetrated  the  glimmer  of  a  light;  was  it  a 
hearth-fire  or  a  torch? 

She  looked  again;  now  it  was  not  quite  so  dim. 
It  augured  rest  and  warmth,  or  at  least  companion- 
ship ;  anything  was  better  than  wandering  thus  alone. 
Unless  —  oh,  alas,  was  it  only  the  "  feu  follet  "  after 
all,  or  a  savage  who  would  murder  her?  But  no, 
her  father  was  the  friend  of  the  Great  Chief;  an 
Indian  would  guide  her  home. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  struggled  toward  the 
light.  The  blood-curdling  howl  of  the  wolves  came 
nearer ;  she  was  almost  benumbed  with  cold.  All  at 
once  she  was  conscious  of  some  living  presence  close 
beside  her.  Was  it  the  Indian  stealing  through  the 
tall  grass?  Something  brushed  against  her.  She 
stretched  out  her  hand;  it  touched  a  soft,  furry 
object,  and  now  a  head  with  two  burning  eyes 
appeared.  Her  companion  was  a  wolf  whelp ;  the 
mother  must  be  near.  Angelique  uttered  a  shriek  of 
terror,  and  stumbled  on.  Were  those  eyes  the  light 
she  had  seen,  or  was  it  the  flaming  glance  of  the 


THE    BLACK   RAIN  79 

wehr-wolf,  —  the  Loup  Garou  who,  the  legend  said, 
was  ever  on  the  watch  to  steal  away  young  maidens? 
Through  her  brain  surged  recollections  of  the  tradi- 
tions she  had  heard  of  this  monster,  half  human, 
half  wolf,  who  walked  erect  through  the  forest.  How 
once  even  a  young  Canadian  huntsman  had  been 
lured  away  by  the  beast,  and  was  never  traced  after- 
wards, although  a  coureur  de  bois  averred  he  had 
met  among  the  woods  a  wolf  dressed  in  the  clothes 
of  the  unfortunate  wanderer.  How  another  venture- 
some hunter  moulded  a  bullet  from  a  silver  coin  and 
patiently  awaited  his  prey.  And  when  at  last  he 
got  a  shot  at  the  Loup  Garou,  the  charmed  bullet, 
instead  of  killing  the  monster,  only  cut  off  its  tail. 
But  the  huntsman  ever  after  was  wont  to  show  the 
brush  as  an  evidence  that  he  spoke  the  truth.  How 
this  tail  of  the  wehr-wolf  was  said  to  have  been  for 
years  the  wonder  of  the  strait,  and  was  even  wor- 
shipped by  the  Indians  as  a  powerful  manitou. 

Angelique  was  now  plodding  through  a  marsh, 
wherein  the  mud  reached  to  her  ankles. 

Hark !  what  was  that  cheering  note  amid  the  many 
terrible  sounds  of  the  storm?  Could  it  be  the 
frightened  neigh  of  a  horse?  Merciful  Heaven,  were 
the  illusions  of  one's  dying  hour  stealing  upon  her, 
or  was  a  human  voice  encouraging  the  poor  beast 
and  anon  shouting  her  own  name,  — 

"  Angelique  !    Angelique  !  " 

"  Here  !    Here  !  "  she  called. 

Her  response  was  faint,  for  her  voice  broke. 
Nevertheless,  there  presently  appeared  before  her 
out  of  the  mist  a  man,  leading  a  horse  by  the  bridle 
and  holding  a  lantern  above  his  head. 

"  Thank  God,  I  have  found  you,  Angelique !  "  he 
exclaimed  fervently. 


80      THE   HEROINE   OF  THE   STRAIT 

"  Monsieur  Sterling,"  she  faltered,  and  weak  and 
trembling  sank  to  the  ground. 

"  At  your  home  they  told  me  you  were  out  in  the 
storm.  Toussaint  and  Raphael  are  scouring  the 
prairie  in  search  of  you.  Truly,  you  have  wandered 
far  afield,  but  you  will  soon  be  under  the  shelter  of 
your  father's  roof,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  Scotchman, 
as  he  knelt  beside  her  and  put  to  her  lips  the  cruse 
of  cordial  that  Tante  Josette  had  thrust  into  his  hand 
as  he  left  the  house. 

Rising  quickly,  he  turned  the  horse  toward  the  way 
from  which  he  had  come,  and  tied  the  lantern  to  the 
pommel  of  the  saddle.  Then  taking  the  girl  in  his 
arms,  he  set  her  light  weight  upon  the  sturdy  animal, 
and,  springing  up  behind  her,  gave  it  the  command  to 
be  off. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost 
in  parleying  for  your  permission,"  he  declared,  as  he 
would  have  humored  a  child.  Angelique  was  too 
exhausted  and  cold  to  reply.  He  drew  his  cloak 
around  her,  and  supported  her  with  one  arm,  while  he 
urged  his  steed  forward. 

Her  head  rested  upon  his  breast ;  her  heart  thrilled 
with  thankfulness  and  content.  Was  it  also  stirred 
by  a  deeper  emotion?  At  least  she  felt  a  happy 
security  in  Sterling's  protection,  in  the  knowledge 
that  it  was  he  who  had  found  her. 

Was  that  a  dog  which  ran  jumping  and  whining 
beside  them  ?  Sterling  changed  the  rein  to  his  left 
hand,  and  with  the  right  sought  the  pistol  in  his  belt. 
Scarcely  had  he  drawn  it  forth  when  the  creature 
with  a  sharp  bark  which  was  succeeded  by  a  cruel 
yelp  leaped  for  the  horse's  flanks.  Nom  de  Dieu, 
it  was  the  mother-wolf,  or  else  the  Loup  Garou ! 
Angelique  felt  the  horse  stagger  with  fear.  She  shrank 


THE    BLACK   RAIN  81 

closer  to  her  preserver,  but,  with  rare  presence  of 
mind,  smothered  the  scream  that  nearly  broke  from 
her,  for  she  was  aware  that  their  escape  depended 
upon  his  attention  being  wholly  given  to  the  battle 
that  must  ensue. 

The  young  trader  hesitated  to  fire  upon  the  beast 
while  it  was  so  close  to  Angelique;  if  it  should  be 
only  wounded,  it  might  fasten  its  fangs  in  her  deli- 
cate flesh  during  the  agony  of  its  death  struggle. 
By  a  powerful  blow  with  the  end  of  his  weapon  he 
beat  the  wolf  down,  and  then  pulled  the  trigger. 
At  the  shot  the  brute  fell  back  with  a  fierce  howl  of 
pain.  The  bullet  had  evidently  taken  effect,  for  they 
heard  nothing  more  from  this  savage  pursuer,  and 
only  the  sound  of  the  whining  of  the  whelp  followed 
them,  as  they  rode  on  in  the  dusk. 

"  You  were  very  brave,  mademoiselle,"  whispered 
Sterling. 

Still  Angelique  did  not  speak,  but  only  clutched 
at  her  chaplet  and  pressed  it  to  her  heart.  He 
thought  she  had  fainted,  and  she  was  glad  that  he 
thought  so. 

In  less  than  an  hour  he  lifted  her  off  the  horse  at  the 
door  of  her  home,  whereupon  "  la  bonne  mere  "  and 
Tante  Josette,  rushing  out,  bore  her  away  from  him 
into  the  hearthroom  and  to  the  settle,  spread  with 
bright  Indian  blankets.  The  sweet  moments  when 
he  had  taken  care  of  her  were  over.  He  sighed  at 
the  realization,  even  while  the  two  women  thanked 
him  volubly,  and  Angelique  stammered  a  few  half- 
coherent  words  of  gratitude. 

"  I  have  a  fine  dinner  cooked  for  you,  and  it  shall 
be  served  directly,  Monsieur  Sterling,"  said  practical 
Dame  Cuillerier.  "When  a  man  is  chilled  to  the 
marrow  of  his  bones,  as  you  must  be,  there  is  nothing 


82      THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

like  a  good  dinner,  with  a  '  petit  verre '  to  begin  it 
The  Pani  boy  will  conduct  you  to  the  sleeping-room 
of  my  sons,  where  you  will  find  a  change  of  dry 
clothing.  I  think  you  and  my  firstborn,  Alexis,  are 
of  about  the  same  height." 

"  I  am  indeed  obliged  to  you,  madame,  for  your 
thoughtfulness,  but  if  you  will  excuse  me  I  will  wait 
only  for  the  '  petit  verre,' "  answered  the  young 
man,  with  a  pleasant  laugh.  "  The  darkness  is  light- 
ening a  trifle.  The  boy  has,  I  see,  put  a  fresh 
peg-lamp  in  my  lantern;  and,  since  the  eau-de-vie 
will  render  me  proof  against  any  ill  consequence 
that  might  wait  upon  further  drenching,  I  may  as 
well  continue  on  to  the  town.  Good-day,  mesdames ; 
good-day,  mademoiselle."  And  he  was  gone  be- 
fore Angelique  could  collect  her  wits  to  urge  him  to 
remain. 

This  adventure,  momentous  as  it  was  to  those 
directly  concerned,  was  but  one  of  many  incidents 
of  that  strange  storm.  Throughout  the  winter,  "  La 
Pluie  de  Suie  "  (Rain  of  Soot)  was  the  favorite  topic 
of  fireside  stories  among  the  people  of  the  strait ;  and 
it  was  even  told  that  Robert  the  Writer,  having  col- 
lected a  small  quantity  of  this  "  black  rain  "  in  a  dish, 
had  writ  with  the  fluid  a  letter  to  the  King  of  France. 
What  was  the  purport  of  the  letter  no  one  could 
tell. 

Major  Gladwin  and  the  rest  of  the  English  strove  to 
explain  the  phenomenon  by  various  theories.  "  The 
storm  was  caused  by  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun,"  some 
said.  Others  spoke  of  distant  forest  fires,  and  of  the 
burning  of  grass  upon  the  marshes;  of  the  vapors 
that  arose  from  the  sulphurous  springs  in  the  vicinity, 
and  of  gases  possibly  set  free  by  the  digging  of  new 
wells. 


THE    BLACK    RAIN  83 

But  to  these  learned  conjectures  the  French  replied 
by  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders,  and  the  Indians  by  a 
scornful  "  Ugh  !  " 

To  Canadian  and  savage  "  La  Pluie  de  Suie  "  was 
a  portent  of  disaster,  and  forebodings  of  impending 
evil  lay  heavy  on  the  hearts  of  the  women  of  the 
settlement. 


CHAPTER   SEVENTH 

INDIANS   AND   FLINTLOCKS 

THE  Indians  have  a  saying,  "When  the  beaver 
vacates  his  house,  spring  has  come."  In  the 
year  1763  the  young  "Aumick"  must  have  gone 
a-wooing  early,  for  by  the  first  week  in  May  the 
forest  about  Fort  Pontchartrain  wore  a  tint  of  green ; 
the  prairie  where  the  long  grass  had  been  cut  in  the 
autumn  was  like  a  soft  emerald  carpet,  dotted  with 
violets  and  "  bouton  d'or ;"  the  air  was  sweet  with  the 
odor  of  eglantine  and  arbutus,  that  came  forth  like 
the  spirit  of  fragrance  from  the  woods. 

It  was  on  one  of  the  fairest  of  May  mornings  that 
Toussaint,  who  had  been  sent  by  Madame  Cuillerier 
upon  an  errand  to  the  home  of  a  neighbor,  on  his 
return  brought  a  message  for  Angelique. 

"  The  Dame  St.  Aubin  has  ordered  her  Pani  rowers 
to  take  her  across  the  river  to  the  Ottawa  village, 
that  she  may  buy  some  venison  of  the  Indians,"  he 
said ;  "  and  she  bade  me  say  she  would  be  glad  of 
the  company  of  mademoiselle  if  the  excursion  is  to 
her  mind." 

"  Truly  it  is,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  as,  from  the  open 
half  of  the  house-door,  she  looked  out  upon  the  clear 
waters  of  Le  Detroit,  dancing  in  the  sunshine  as  if 
they  too  were  happy  that  the  long  winter  was  past. 

Within  the  half-hour  Angelique  had  taken  her 
place  in  the  strong  elm-bark  canoe  with  Madame 


INDIANS   AND    FLINTLOCKS  85 

St.  Aubin  ;  and  anon,  guided  by  the  two  dark-skinned 
boys,  who  were  as  much  at  home  when  struggling 
against  the  current  as  if  it  were  their  natural  element, 
the  little  skiff  shot  out  upon  the  strait. 

"  Well  pleased  I  am  that  you  sent  for  me,  dame," 
cried  the  demoiselle,  as  she  shook  back  her  curls, 
which  the  south  wind  tossed  about  as  a  teasing  young 
giant  with  his  great  hand  might  ruffle  the  locks  of  a 
child. 

Because  of  the  mildness  of  the  air,  she  had  not 
donned  her  scarlet  cloak  with  its  capouch,  but 
wore  upon  her  pretty  head  the  new  hat  of  river 
grasses  which  she  had  plaited  during  the  winter, 
and  about  her  shoulders  a  small  shawl,  blue  as  the 
sky  above,  selected  from  among  the  merchandise 
that  had  come  to  her  father  by  the  spring  convoy 
from  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  was  now  on  sale  at 
his  storehouse.  The  red  ribbon  on  her  hat  con- 
trasted well  with  the  blue  of  the  little  shawl,  and 
both  set  off  to  good  advantage  the  dark  beauty  of 
the  girl ;  at  least,  so  thought  Dame  St.  Aubin,  as 
she  watched  her  young  neighbor,  to  whose  animated 
face  the  kisses  of  the  wind  had  brought  a  charming 
blush. 

"  I  too  have  some  purchases  to  make,"  continued 
Angelique,  with  a  smile.  "I  would  fain  have  a 
beaded  pouch  such  as  Archange  de  Mersac  bought 
of  a  squaw  last  week ;  also  a  mocock  of  fresh  maple 
sugar.  To  pay  for  them  I  have  brought  some  ells  of 
cotton  cloth.  Look  you,  't  is  of  the  new  supply  my 
father  has  just  got  from  Montreal." 

"  An  excellent  cloth,"  rejoined  the  dame,  taking 
the  end  of  the  roll  between  her  thumb  and  forefinger, 
that  she  might  feel  the  texture.  "  I  must  make  haste 
to  procure  some  of  the  bourgeois  before  it  is  all  bar~ 


86      THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

tered  away.  And  are  there  among  the  goods  other 
shawls?  The  blue  color  is  just  suited  to  you,  ma 
belle,  but  for  myself  I  would  choose  one  of  a  more 
sombre  hue;  a  soft  brown  or  gray  would  give  ser- 
viceable wear." 

"  My  father  has  them  of  all  the  tints  of  the  rain- 
bow and  the  shadow  colors  as  well,"  was  the  reassur- 
ing answer. 

"  Ma  foi,  but  you  are  looking  as  sweet  as  a  spray 
of  eglantine  this  morning,"  continued  the  older 
woman  in  a  low  tone,  so  as  not  to  be  overheard 
by  the  servants.  "  I  would  that  some  of  your  cava- 
liers might  see  you.  Major  Gladwin,  who,  in 
spite  of  his  ague,  had  such  an  admiring  eye  for 
you  before  he  went  beyond  the  seas,  or  Captain 
Campbell  —  " 

"  The  dear  captain,"  interrupted  the  girl  lightly ; 
"  I  think  he  must  be  the  most  amiable  of  men.  And 
he  is  ever  so  courteous  and  gallant.  But  you  mis- 
take; Major  Gladwin  gives  me  not  a  thought,  and 
Mr.  Campbell's  heart  is  bestowed  upon  la  jolie  Ma- 
thurine  at  the  red  mill." 

"  Eh  bien,  there  are  Robishe  Navarre  and  Jasmin 
de  Joncaire ;  though  in  truth,  my  dear,  I  once  sup- 
posed we  should  see  you  marry  the  young  Scotch 
trader,  James  Sterling,"  pursued  the  loquacious  dame. 
"What  have  you  done  to  him,  cherie,  that  he  still 
keeps  aloof  from  you?  His  rescue  of  you  on  the 
awful  day  of  the  Black  Rain  should  have  put  an  end 
to  the  estrangement  between  you  and  so  faithful  a 
lover." 

"Phouff!  a  fig  for  your  romancing,  madame," 
exclaimed  Angelique,  suppressing,  a  yawn.  "  Mon- 
sieur Sterling  and  I  are  on  the  best  of  terms..  But  if 
he  prefers  the  society  of  Marianne  de  St.  Ours,  for 


INDIANS   AND   FLINTLOCKS  87 

instance,  and  I  incline  to  the  company  of  Major  La 
Mothe,  each  is  better  pleased,  that  is  all." 

If  the  flush  in  her  cheeks  deepened,  perchance  it 
was  because  the  breeze,  balmy  along  the  shore,  was 
keen  upon  the  water.  Presently  she  began  to  sing, 
while  the  dame  took  to  considering  how  she  might 
best  secure  from  the  Ottawa  squaws  the  choice  pieces 
of  venison. 

"Entre  Paris  et  Saint-Denis 
II  s'e"leve  une  danse ; 
Toutes  les  dames  de  la  ville 
Sont  alentour  qui  dansent. 

Sur  la  feuille  ron-don  don  don, 
Sur  la  jolie,  jolie  feuille  ronde," 

trolled  the  girl,  with  an  air  of  careless  gaiety. 

"II  n'y  a  que  la  fill'  du  roi 
D'un  cotd  qui  regarde. 
Ell'  voit  venir  son  messager, 
Son  messager  de  Nantes. 

"  «  Beau  messager,  beau  messager, 
Quell's  nouvell's  va  a  Nantes?  ' 
« Les  nouvell's  que  j'ai  apportdes  : 
Que  votre  amant  vous  mande,  — 

"  '  Que  vous  fassiez  choix  d'un  amant, 
Pour  lui  a  une  amante.' 
'  Est-elle  alors  plus  belle  que  moi, 
Ah,  est-elle  plus  savante  ?  ' 

" '  Elle  n'est  pas  plus  belle  que  toi, 
Mais  elle  est  plus  savante  ; 
Ell'  fait  neiger,  ell'  fait  greler, 
Ell'  fait  le  vent  qui  vente. 

"  <  E1P  fait  reluire  le  soleil 
A  minuit  dans  sa  chambre ; 


88      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

Ell'  fait  pousser  le  romarin 

Sur  le  bord  de  la  Manche.' 
Sur  la  feuille  ron-don  don  don, 
Sur  la  jolie,  jolie  feuille  ronde." l 

Even  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  older  woman  were 
deceived. 

"  The  pretty  coquette  is  heart  whole,"  reflected 
Madame  St.  Aubin.  Then  she  returned  to  her  cal- 
culations as  to  how  much  of  the  deers'  meat  she 

1 "  'Twixt  Paris  gay  and  St.  Denis 
The  dance  was  up  one  day, 
And  all  the  ladies  of  the  town 
Looked  on  in  brave  array. 

Sur  la  feuille  ron-don  don  don, 

Sur  la  jolie,  jolie  feuille  ronde. 

"  All  save  the  princess  proud  — who  watched 
Afar  the  broad  highway, 
To  see  her  trusty  messenger, 
Ride  from  where  Nantes  lay. 

" '  Oh,  messenger,  bold  messenger, 
What  news  from  Nantes,  pray  ? ' 
'  The  only  news  I  bring,  ma  belle,  — 
Your  lover  bade  me  say, 

" '  Choose  you  another  gallant  now, 
He  has  a  sweetheart  rare.' 
'  Ah,  is  she  wiser  far  than  I, 
Or  is  her  face  more  fair  ? ' 

"  '  Her  beauty  is  not  like  to  yours, 
But  secret  lore  she  knows ; 
She  makes  the  snow,  she  makes  the  hail, 
She  makes  the  wind  that  blows. 

" '  She  makes  the  sun  to  shine  again 
At  midnight  in  her  bower ; 
And  on  the  borders  of  the  sea 
The  rosemary  to  flower.' 

Sur  la  feuille,  ron-don  don  don, 

Sur  la  jolie,  jolie  feuille  ronde." 


INDIANS    AND    FLINTLOCKS  89 

was  like  to  obtain  in  exchange  for  the  homespun 
cotton  cloth  and  the  small  box  of  beads  she  had 
brought. 

Nevertheless,  despite  her  affected  indifference,  An- 
gelique was  annoyed.  Sterling's  conduct  since  that 
dreadful  afternoon  when  he  found  her  wandering 
alone  upon  the  prairie,  was  as  inexplicable  to  her  as 
it  appeared  to  this  kindly  friend.  Instead  of  profit- 
ing by  the  opportunity  for  a  reconciliation  wherewith 
fortune  had  then  favored  him,  he  had  avoided  her 
more  persistently  than  before.  Like  a  dream  now 
seemed  the  moments  when,  with  his  protecting  arm 
about  her  and  her  head  pillowed  upon  his  breast,  she 
had  prayed  with  all  the  ardor  of  her  pure  young 
heart  that  God  would  keep  him  during  long  years  as 
he  was  then  —  strong,  courageous,  and  trustworthy. 
Again,  it  angered  her  to  think  of  the  adventure. 
How  cold  he  must  be,  forsooth,  or  did  he  regard  her 
as  a  child  ?  How  humiliating  to  her  was  the  recol- 
lection. He  had  taken  Angelique  Cuillerier  in  his 
arms,  —  Angelique  Cuillerier  who,  with  alt  her  co- 
quetry, would  not  permit  to  any  cavalier  the  liberty 
of  holding  her  hand.  And  she  had  clung  to  him, 
even  as  a  girl  who  fears  a  cruel  fate  may  part  her 
from  her  lover.  Yet,  notwithstanding,  they  were 
again  upon  no  more  cordial  terms  than  those  of 
polite  ceremony.  "  Allons,  if  he  does  not  wish  to 
remember,  I  am  ready  enough  to  forget,"  she  said  to 
herself.  "  Had  I  not  been  so  weak  and  chilled  when 
he  found  me,  I  would  have  insisted  that  he  set  me 
upon  the  horse  and  himself  plod  along  in  the  mud  by 
my  side.  But  the  wolf!  " 

It  was  usually  at  this  stage  of  her  meditations  that 
Angelique  began  to  sing  or  laugh,  or  to  smile  upon 
some  gallant,  if  any  chanced  to  be  near, 


90      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

Now  the  slave  boys  who  paddled  the  canoe  ran  it 
up  on  the  beach  of  the  southern  shore  of  the  river. 
Angelique  sprang  agilely  out  on  the  strand,  assisted 
Madame  St.  Aubin  to  alight,  and  the  two  women, 
ascending  the  steep  bluff,  passed  through  the  gate 
of  the  well-built  palisade  that  surrounded  the  Ottawa 
village. 

"  I  am  always  filled  with  wonder  and  curiosity 
when  I  find  myself  in  one  of  these  Indian  settle- 
ments," whispered  the  girl  to  her  companion.  "  How 
ingeniously  constructed  are  these  long  lodges  of 
bark,  arched  like  arbors !  And  look  beyond,  in 
the  fields  of  the  savages  the  maize  is  already 
sprouting !  " 

"  Chut,"  sniffed  Madame  St.  Aubin.  "  Even  this 
passing  glimpse  of  the  lodges  suffices  to  show  that 
the  interiors  are  far  from  cleanly;  and  I  have  heard 
that  the  Ottawa  fields  are  not  so  well  tilled  as  those 
of  the  Hurons  below  the  fort.  But  let  us  hasten  to 
the  hut  of  the  old  squaw  Okeemesemaw;  she  who  is 
the  mother  of  seven  warriors.  It  is  with  her  I  wish 
to  deal." 

Obediently,  Angelique  kept  up  with  the  dame, 
yet  her  bright  eyes  took  note  of  what  was  going  on 
around  her. 

At  the  entrance  to  one  wigwam,  three  or  four 
braves  were  seated  upon  the  ground.  One  held  be- 
tween his  hands  a  roughly  moulded  bowl  of  red  clay, 
wherein  were  some  six  or  eight  small  pebbles,  colored 
yellow  on  one  side  and  black  on  the  other.  These 
he  tossed  up  in  the  air  with  fierce  glee,  and  when 
they  fell  back  into  the  dish,  all  the  men  bent  over  it 
eagerly  to  see  whether  the  black  or  the  yellow  side 
of  the  pebbles  had  fallen  uppermost,  and  began  talk- 
ing all  together  in  angry  tones.  They  were  playing 


INDIANS   AND   FLINTLOCKS  91 

"  bowl,"  the  Indian  gambling  game,  and  a  dispute 
had  arisen  over  the  result  of  a  throw. 

Farther  along,  the  white  women  saw  the  squaws 
stretching  upon  frames  the  hides  of  the  deer  that 
their  lords  had  shot,  and  bringing  in  wood  from  the 
forest.  At  the  fires  before  some  of  the  lodges  women 
were  cooking  chunks  of  venison,  and  the  odor  of 
burnt  meats  pervaded  the  vicinity. 

In  one  arbor  hut  a  number  of  girls  were  dancing 
to  the  sound  of  the  "  sisiquoi,"  a  kind  of  gourd  filled 
with  grains  of  shot. 

Groups  of  idle  warriors  scowled  at  the  visitors  as 
they  passed,  but  what  chiefly  impressed  Angelique 
was  the  spirit  of  unrest  abroad  in  the  village.  True, 
the  braves  lounged  upon  their  rush  mats,  or  stalked 
about,  arrayed  in  their  blankets,  with  an  aspect  of 
supreme  forgetfulness  of  everything  but  the  pleasant 
spring  air.  Yet  the  keen-witted  demoiselle  knew 
enough  of  the  Indian  character  to  feel  that  beneath 
their  half-closed  eyelids  they  were  furtively  watching 
herself  and  her  companion.  She  caught  a  glimpse, 
too,  of  an  old  man  who  went  through  the  camp  from 
warrior  to  warrior.  As  he  spoke  a  word  in  the  ear, 
now  of  one,  now  of  another,  she  fancied  that  the  eye 
of  each  kindled ;  and  although  in  no  other  way  did 
the  imperturbable  expression  of  his  visage  change, 
she  shuddered  with  an  unaccountable  sense  that  he 
had  received  some  ominous  communication. 

And  the  women,  all  save  the  party  of  dancers,  — 
were  they  not  busied  as  they  were  wont  to  be  be- 
fore the  setting  out  of  their  lords  for  the  hunt,  or  upon 
an  expedition  against  their  enemies?  What  could  it 
all  mean? 

At  last,  with  Madame  St.  Aubin,  she  reached  the 
lodge  of  Okeemesemaw.  The  old  squaw  was  nowhere 


92      THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

in  sight,  and  the  dame  was  about  to  approach  nearer 
the  opening  into  the  hut  and  call  out,  when  Ange- 
lique  laid  a  hand  upon  her  arm. 

"  See  those  within,  and  note  what  they  are  doing," 
cried  the  girl,  in  an  alarmed  whisper. 

Madame  St.  Aubin  had  already  observed  in  tim~ 
to  draw  back. 

Among  the  shadows  a  redman  was  actually  work- 
ing. His  task  was  a  peculiar  one.  With  one  hand 
he  grasped  the  barrel  of  a  musket.  In  the  other  he 
held  a  strong  steel  file,  which  he  wielded  with  as  little 
noise  as  might  be.  He  was  engaged  in  filing  off  the 
barrel,  so  as  to  reduce  the  musket,  stock  and  all,  to 
the  length  of  about  a  yard.  Near  him,  seated  upon 
a  bear  skin,  was  another  young  brave,  employed  in 
the  same  manner;  while  a  third,  whom  Angelique 
recognized  as  Panigwun,  son  of  Pontiac,  having 
finished  a  like  task,  was  now  loading  his  weapon. 

"  Pretend  to  have  seen  nothing,"  Dame  St.  Aubin 
hurriedly  murmured,  as  she  drew  the  startled  girl 
toward  the  rear  of  the  wigwam,  where  they  found 
the  aged  woman  mending  fish  nets. 

"  Did  the  white  chief's  wife  and  daughter  enter  the 
lodge  in  search  of  me?  "  she  inquired,  with  impassive 
countenance,  although  her  gaze  sharply  strove  to  read 
the  truth. 

"  No.  I  thought  I  heard  voices  without,  and  we 
came  around  the  lodge  expecting  to  find  you  here 
with  some  of  the  other  women,"  returned  Madame 
St.  Aubin,  in  well-feigned  unconcern. 

"  Ugh !  I  was  talking  to  myself,"  explained  Okee- 
mesemaw.  "  You  wish  to  buy  venison  of  me?  Yes, 
I  will  sell  you  a  quarter  or  a  half  of  a  fine  deer  that 
one  of  my  sons  shot  yesterday.  Only  now  have  I 
skinned  it." 


INDIANS    AND   FLINTLOCKS  93 

While  they  were  bartering  for  the  flesh  of  the  deer, 
the  son  of  Pontiac,  whom  the  white  women  had  noticed 
in  the  cabin,  stalked  noiselessly  around  to  where 
they  stood.  His  erect  figure  was  almost  enveloped 
in  a  gay  blanket,  but  as  he  for  a  second  flung  open 
the  latter  in  salutation,  Angelique  caught  the  gleam 
of  steel,  and  knew  it  to  be  the  shortened  barrel  of  the 
gun.  The  next  moment  he  thrust  close  to  her  face 
his  own  grinning  visage,  smeared  with  vermilion  and 
ochre,  and  said  in  the  halting  patois  half  Canadian, 
half  Indian, — 

"  The  White  Song-Bird  is  French ;  she  need  have 
no  fear.  Her  father  loves  the  Great  Chief  Pontiac; 
and  Panigwun  loves  the  White  Song-Bird. " 

The  girl  pressed  closer  to  Madame  St.  Aubin,  and 
was  only  restrained  from  shrieking  aloud  by  the 
realization  that  to  do  so  might  imperil  their  safety. 

Old  Okeemesemaw  promptly  interposed,  for  she 
knew  the  braves  had  been  drinking  English  milk 
(rum). 

"  Has  Pontiac  a  son  or  a  daughter  in  Panigwun?" 
she  said,  with  biting  sarcasm.  "  Has  the  Strong- 
Wing-Feather  nothing  to  do  but  to  stir  the  silly 
fright  of  a  young  maiden,  when  there  is  the  grand 
game  of  lacrosse  at  the  fort  of  the  English  for  which 
to  prepare?  Ugh,  he  will  never  make  a  warrior !  " 

Panigwun  strode  away  in  disdain,  and  the  squaw 
insisted  upon  conducting  her  customers  back  to  their 
boat,  after  the  demoiselle  had  hastily  bought  of  her 
a  mocock  of  maple  sugar. 

As  they  again  passed  the  hut  where  the  music  had 
been,  a  girl  came  out  and  placed  herself  in  their 
path. 

She  was  beautiful  as  a  fawn  of  the  forest,  straight 
as  an  arrow,  and  of  a  fairer  hue  than  her  Indian  com- 


94      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

panions,  although  now  her  face  was  flushed  from  the 
romping.  Her  eyes  were  bright  and  lustrous,  and 
her  black  hair  hung  down  in  front  of  her  shoulders  in 
two  long,  shining  braids. 

"Catherine!"  exclaimed  Angelique,  with  pleasure, 
recognizing  in  the  charming  apparition  an  acquaint- 
ance whom  she  had  been  wont  to  meet  and  talk  with 
sometimes  outside  the  chapel  of  the  Jesuit  Mission 
after  Mass  or  Vespers. 

The  girl  smiled  in  return,  showing  her  white  teeth, 
that  somehow  reminded  Angelique  of  the  teeth  of  the 
wolf. 

"  I  am  not  Catherine  here,"  she  said.  "  It  is  true,  so 
I  was  baptized  at  the  mission ;  but  among  my  people  I 
am  still  Nedawniss,  the  daughter  of  Makatepelicite." 

"  Your  people !  "  echoed  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier, 
in  astonishment;  "you  told  me  once  that  you  lived 
among  the  Ojibwas,  far  down  the  river." 

"  Like  the  Great  Chief  Pontiac,  I  belong  to  both 
tribes,"  answered  the  girl  haughtily.  "My  mother 
was  an  Ojibwa,  my  father  is  an  Ottawa  warrior." 

"  Why  is  it  that  you  no  longer  come  to  the  mission  ?  " 
demanded  Angelique,  in  digression. 

The  Indian  shrugged  her  shoulders  with  the  manner 
of  some  ancestral  coureur  de  bois  and  replied,  — 

"  No,  I  do  not  go ;  I  think  of  other  things." 

Then  drawing  from  her  bosom  a  small  square  of 
deerskin  whereon  was  begun  a  pattern  embroidered 
in  beads  and  dyed  porcupine  quills,  she  continued : 
"  See,  your  lover,  Major  Gladwin,  has  ordered  of 
me  a  pair  of  moccasins ;  do  you  think  he  will  live  to 
wear  them?  Will  he  take  part  in  the  game  of  lacrosse 
at  the  fort?  If  he  will,  he  shall  have  the  moccasins 
betimes.  Go  to  the  mission  chapel  or  to  Ste.  Anne's 
and  pray  for  him  ;  I  would  if  I  were  you." 


INDIANS   AND    FLINTLOCKS  95 

"  Catherine,  what  do  you  mean  by  these  strange 
words?"  gasped  the  demoiselle,  grasping  the  arm  of 
the  Indian.  "  What  has  angered  you  ?  Well  you 
know  that  Major  Gladwin  has  often  played  at  lacrosse 
with  the  French ;  but  this  is  to  be  a  game  between 
the  Ottawas  and  the  Hurons,  is  it  not?  Make  haste 
to  finish  the  moccasins,  for  the  commandant  will  pay 
you  well  for  them.  And  —  and — Father  Potier  is 
ill-pleased  that  you  do  not  go  to  the  chapel.  He  ever 
relied  on  you  to  lead  the  choir  of  Indian  girls  in  the 
singing." 

Catherine  laughed  harshly,  and,  before  Angelique 
could  say  more,  Madame  St.  Aubin  hurried  her  on- 
ward to  the  boat. 

"  There  is  trouble  brewing,"  ejaculated  the  dame, 
when  the  canoe  was  clear  of  the  shore  and  the  Panis 
paddled  swiftly  out  into  the  current. 

"  The  rivalry  between  the  different  tribes  is  always 
keen  at  the  spring  games,"  wearily  responded  Ange- 
lique, striving  to  argue  away  her  fears. 

"  But  the  spring  games  do  not  account  for  the  short- 
ened gun  barrels,"  pursued  the  dame,  with  a  degree 
of  asperity.  "  I  shall  counsel  my  good  man  to  carry 
news  to  the  stockade  of  what  we  have  seen  this  day." 

"  Yes ;  a  message  must  be  sent  to  Major  Gladwin," 
agreed  the  girl,  now  grave  again.  "  Those  dark 
words  that  Catherine  let  drop  were,  I  believe,  but  the 
promptings  of  a  childish  jealousy.  The  comman- 
dant has  bought  bead  trinkets  of  her,  and  because  he 
commended  her  handiwork  and  spoke  kindly  to  her 
once  or  twice,  she  cherishes  for  him,  it  seems,  either 
an  ardent  attachment  or  a  passionate  hatred,  I  know 
not  which.  Yet  —  the  gun  barrels  !  You  will  surely 
see  to  it  that  the  major  is  warned,  dame?  " 

"  I  will  surely  see  to  it,"  was  the  decided  reply. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTH 

FOR  THE  MASTERY  OF  A   SOUL 

ON  the  first  of  May,  the  Chief  Pontiac  had  ap- 
peared at  the  gate  of  Fort  Pontchartrain,  with 
forty  warriors,  and  announced  that  the  party  had  come 
to  perform  the  calumet  dance  before  the  officers  of 
the  garrison. 

Upon  being  admitted,  they  passed  down  Ste.  Anne's 
Street  and  paused  before  the  British  headquarters. 
Here,  in  the  Place  d'Armes,  the  leader  and  thirty 
of  his  followers  began  the  dance,  each  recounting 
his  own  exploits  and  boasting  himself  the  bravest  of 
the  brave.  The  soldiers  gathered  round  them,  while, 
undeterred,  the  remaining  ten  of  the  redmen  strolled 
about  the  town.  When  the  ceremony  was  over,  they 
all  returned,  quietly  to  their  village. 

It  was  to  a  continuance  of  these  festivities  that  the 
braves  ostensibly  looked  forward  at  the  time  of  the 
visit  of  the  white  women  to  their  squaws. 

Notwithstanding  Dame  St.  Aubin's  assurance  that 
a  messenger  should  be  sent  to  the  fort  with  word  of 
what  she  and  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  had  seen  at  the 
Indian  village,  Angelique  was  unlike  herself  during 
the  remainder  of  the  day.  Her  usual  buoyant  vi- 
vacity had  deserted  her,  and  even  after  she  had  seen 
Casse  St.  Aubin  set  out  for  the  stockade,  she  flitted 
about,  busying  herself  with  the  household  tasks  that 
came  in  her  way  with  nervous  energy. 


FOR    THE    MASTERY    OF   A   SOUL      97 

At  twilight,  she  stole  away  to  the  little  beach  that 
bordered  the  river,  where  one  might  walk  screened  by 
the  steep  bank  from  the  view  of  any  chance  way- 
farer on  the  road  above. 

She  wanted  to  be  alone,  to  go  over  once  more,  as 
she  had  already  recalled  a  score  of  times,  all  the  in- 
cidents of  the.  visit  to  the  Ottawa  settlement;  to 
ponder  again  the  allusions  of  the  Ojibwa  girl,  and 
strive  to  determine  whether  there  was  in  them  any- 
thing more  than  petty  feminine  malice. 

For  a  while  the  pretty  demoiselle  lingered  by  the 
river's  edge,  sometimes  breaking  off  from  her  serious 
mood  to  pick  up  a  flat  pebble,  send  it  skipping  along 
the  surface  of  the  water,  and  watch  it  sink  into  the 
depths,  wishing  she  might  thus  bury  her  misgivings. 
Again,  she  cast  into  the  current  some  twig  or  bit  of 
brushwood,  whereat  the  old  dog  Trouveur  plunged 
after  it,  with  a  sportiveness  that  could  scarce  be  sur- 
passed by  any  young  puppy  along  the  c6te. 

She  was  thus  engaged  when  down  the  stream  of 
Parant's  Creek  a  canoe  shot  into  the  river,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  the  canoeist  ran  the  little  skiff  up  on 
the  beach  almost  at  the  feet  of  the  stroller  on  the 
sands. 

Angelique  started,  half  wondering  if  her  thoughts 
had  taken  visible  form,  for  before  her  stood  the 
Ojibwa  maiden. 

A  growl  from  the  dog  gave  proof,  however,  that 
her  visitor  was  no  embodiment  of  a  mental  image. 

"  Catherine  !  "  she  cried  in  amazement,  "  how  is  it 
that  you  come  by  the  creek?  Had  I  expected  you  at 
all,  I  should  have  looked  to  see  your  pirogue  skim- 
ming across  the  strait  from  the  opposite  shore." 

"  My  canoe  is  like  a  bird  of  the  Lakes ;  on  its  wings 
I  fly;  it  swims  the  Rigolet  des  Hurons,  Campeau's 
7 


98      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

rivulet,  and  this  clear  stream,  as  well  as  Le  Detroit. 
It  and  I  are  free  as  the  air  and  the  swift-flowing 
waters,"  answered  the  girl,  with  her  scornful  smile. 
"  We  are  lovers,  my  canoe  and  I.  On  the  prairie,  my 
feet  are  his  feet ;  over  the  waters,  he  carries  me  in  his 
arms." 

"  Oh,  it  matters  not  at  all  to  me  from  what  direc- 
tion you  come,"  replied  Angelique.  "  But  if  't  is  I 
whom  you  are  come  to  see,  what  is  your  errand  ?  " 

"  No,  it  matters  not,  unless  mayhap  I  come  from 
the  direction  of  the  fort,"  continued  Catherine  mock- 
ingly. "Yet,  be  not  so  brief,  mademoiselle;  there  is 
much  I  might  tell  you." 

"In  God's  name,  what  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed 
Angelique,  exasperated.  "  If  by  speaking  you  can 
save  another,  or  others,  from  harm,  speak,  I  implore 
you  !  "  She  laid  a  hand  on  the  arm  of  the  savage  in 
earnest  entreaty. 

A  wave  of  emotion  swept  over  the  usually  im- 
mobile face  of  the  Ojibwa;  two  natures  seemed  to 
struggle  for  the  mastery  of  her  fierce  soul,  the  one 
noble  and  the  other  evil.  At  one  moment  she  ap- 
peared to  soften  almost  to  tenderness;  as  though 
moved  to  some  heroic  action,  she  darted  toward  her 
canoe,  evidently  intending  to  depart  in  haste.  But, 
alas,  she  turned  back.  Coming  close  to  Angelique, 
who  had  followed  her  every  motion,  first  in  wonder- 
ment, again  with  quick  sympathy,  and  now  with 
horror,  she  peered  into  the  beautiful  face  of  the 
French  girl,  laughed  gutterally  as  she  had  done  earlier 
in  the  day,  and  cried,  "Bah,  I  will  not  do  it.  Gitchie 
Manitou,  let  him  die  with  the  rest." 

Angelique  caught  her  by  the  wrists. 

"  You  shall  tell  me  what  you  mean,"  she  said,  "  or 
I  will  cry  out  for  my  father.  I  will  keep  you  here 


FOR  THE   MASTERY   OF   A   SOUL      99 

until  he  sends  me  aid.  I  may  not  be  as  strong  as 
you  are,  but  Trouveur  will  help  me.  You  shall  be 
sent  to  the  gaol  within  the  stockade." 

At  the  mention  of  the  gaol,  the  girl  laughed  again 
that  discordant  bitter  laugh,  whereat  Angelique  mar- 
velled that  her  voice  had  ever  been  considered  sweet. 

"  If  you  would  have  my  tidings,  hear  them  then," 
returned  the  Indian,  shaking  off  the  firm  hands  of  her 
white  antagonist,  as  though  they  were  but  as  the 
touch  of  a  tame  wood  pigeon.  "  Hear  and  yet  know 
that  you,  a  French  girl,  dare  not  so  much  as  raise  a 
finger  to  give  warning  to  those  from  whom  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Great  Spirit  has  passed.  No,  for  if 
you  attempt  to  warn  them,  the  Chief  Pontiac  will 
pluck  out  your  heart  and  eat  it." 

Angelique  felt  the  blood  in  her  veins  grow  cold, 
and  a  tremor  ran  through  her  slight  yet  vigorous 
frame.  But  she  belonged  to  a  race  that  had  given 
chevaliers  to  New  France ;  she  was  not  to  be  cowed 
by  the  threats  of  this  savage.  The  spirit  of  her  grand- 
mother, Madame  Trottier  de  Beaubien,  of  her  uncle, 
Picote  de  Bellestre,  blazed  in  her  eyes  as  she  said 
unflinchingly,  — 

"Tell  me." 

"  The  English  have  broken  faith  with  my  people," 
hissed  Nedawniss,  in  a  venomous  whisper.  "The 
white  warriors  rest  idle  within  the  stockade;  their 
guns  gather  rust,  their  swords  grow  dim  in  the  scab- 
bards. They  think  by  harsh  words  and  plunderings 
to  make  slaves  of  the  redmen.  They  are  asleep,  but 
the  King  of  the  forest  is  awake.  Not  many  times  has 
the  sun  risen  and  set  since  Pontiac  held  a  council 
down  at  the  little  river  Ecorse,  —  ha,  ha,  under  the 
eyes  of  the  red-coated  dogs,  who  were  asleep  on  their 
mats.  Not  for  a  necklace  of  the  finest  beads  of  the 


loo     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

French  would  I  have  missed  the  scene.  There  were 
warriors,  women,  children,  and  young  maidens  shin- 
ing with  bears'  oil  and  ruddy  with  vermilion,  like  to 
Red  Swan  the  bride  of  Singing  Sands;  handsomer 
than  was  ever  milk-faced  woman.  Stealing  from 
bush  to  bush  on  the  newly  green  prairie,  I  saw  the 
council ;  many  chiefs  seated  in  a  wide  circle  upon  the 
grass.  The  face  of  each  was  changeless,  as  though 
pictured  on  the  cliffs  near  the  Father  of  Waters,1  or 
carved  from  the  heart  of  a  forest  tree.  But  I  who  am 
of  their  blood,  —  I  know  what  fires  burned  beneath 
those  visages  of  stone.  Pipes  were  lighted  and  passed 
from  one  to  another.  Then  I  saw  the  Great  Chief 
Pontiac  rise  from  his  place ;  one  might  have  thought 
the  war-god  himself  stood  before  the  nations.  He 
spoke  in  a  loud  voice  that  stirred  my  soul,  and  at 
every  pause  there  broke  from  the  warriors  deep  mut- 
terings  of  assent,  like  the  bay  of  the  wolves  in  the 
wilderness." 

"  And  what  did  he  say?"  interrogated  Angelique, 
catching  her  breath,  lest  a  sob  of  anxiety  should 
escape  her. 

"  I  heard  no  word,"  answered  Nedawniss,  abruptly 
breaking  off  her  recital. 

"  You  know  why  the  council  was  called,"  persisted 
the  French  girl. 

"  This  much  I  know,"  pursued  Nedawniss  evasively. 
"  I  would  not  give  a  wampum  shell  for  the  lives  of 
the  red-clad  dogs  at  the  stockade.  There  is  one 
among  them  whom  I  would  save  if  he  loved  me.  But 
my  heart  has  lain  at  his  feet,  and  he  has  trodden  upon 
it.  Another  white  brave  has  found  the  breath  of  an 
Indian  maiden  sweet,  her  heart  warm.  My  father  is 
an  Ottawa  chief,  my  mother's  father  was  a  Frenchman, 
1  Lake  Superior. 


FOR   THE    MASTERY   OF   A   SOUL     101 

and  the  missionary  wedded  him  to  the  maiden  of  his 
choice  in  the  forest.  No  Indian  girl  can  more  deftly 
skin  the  beaver,  the  deer,  and  the  musfcrat  than  I,  of 
stretch  them  more  neatly  upon  the  frames.  Why 
should  not  this  yellow-haired  warrior  wed  me  before 
the  altar  of  Ste.  Anne's  or  the  mission  chapel,  as  it  is 
said  Captain  Campbell  will  marry  the  White  Fawn 
whom  the  French  call  la  jolie  Mathurine?" 

Despite  her  terror,  Angelique  was  conscious  of  a 
feeling  of  incredulous  astonishment. 

"  You  are  dreaming,  Catherine,"  she  said,  half  in 
pity.  "  The  English  do  not  marry  Indian  maidens. 
La  jolie  Mathurine  is  nearly  as  white  as  I  am.  She 
has  been  reared  by  Dame  Cabacier  of  the  red  mill  at 
La  Belle  Fontaine,  and  you  are  —  " 

She  stopped  short,  but  Nedawniss  passionately 
added  for  her, — 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  savage.  I  would  not  stoop  to  be  his 
slave,  —  no,  not  I,  the  daughter  of  a  councillor  of  the 
Great  Chief.  But  if  he  would  love  me  as  I  would 
fain  be  loved  —  ah,  then  I  would  give  to  him  a  sisso- 
baquet1  kiss.  Yes,  a  kiss  of  such  sweetness  as  he 
has  never  even  dreamed.  I  would  pillow  his  head  on 
my  breast  and  soothe  him  with  songs,  as  a  mother 
caresses  and  sings  to  her  child ;  as  Omeme,  the  wood 
pigeon,  cooes  to  her  mate." 

The  voice  af  the  daughter  of  the  forest  took  on  a 
musical  cadence,  as  Angelique  listened  in  amazement. 
But  all  at  once  the  softness  died  out  of  the  black  eyes 
of  the  Indian  girl,  and  they  burned  with  a  fierce 
light. 

"  No,  he  does  not  love  me,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
vehemence  inherited  perhaps  from  her  pale-faced 
ancestor.  "  He  loves  you  —  you,  Mademoiselle  Cuil- 
1  Sweet. 


102     THE    HEROINE    OF    THE   STRAIT 

lerier,  and  you  cannot  raise  a  finger  to  save  him ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha !  " 

"  I  will  not  pretend  to  be  ignorant  that  it  is  of 
Major  Gladwin  you  speak,"  continued  Angelique,  in 
the  patois  with  which  they  were  both  so  familiar. 
"But  your  words  are  strange  indeed  to  me.  You  say 
that  danger  threatens  him,  yet  you  will  not  stretch 
forth  your  hand  to  turn  it  aside.  It  is  not  thus  that 
a  French  girl  loves,  nor  yet  I  dare  hazard  does  an 
English  maiden.  A  white  woman  will  lay  down  her 
life  for  the  man  who  has  won  her  heart,  whether  he 
loves  her  in  return  or  not." 

"  She  may  do  it ;  but  not  if  his  heart  is  given  to 
another  woman,"  said  the  Ojibwa  vindictively.  "  The 
pale-faced  maiden  may  be  gentleness  itself,  yet  her 
lover  had  best  beware  the  jealous  anger  of  the  dove. 
I  shall  be  revenged.  I  have  told  you  in  part,  that 
your  soul  may  be  plunged  in  anguish ;  you  do  not 
know  enough  to  help  him,  even  if  you  should  risk  the 
loss  of  your  pretty  scalp  by  going  to  tell  him.  But 
that  you  will  never  do." 

As  she  flung  this  taunt  at  the  shrinking  demoiselle, 
the  dog,  Trouveur,  which  had  several  times  menaced 
her  by  a  low  snarl,  bounded  forward  with  an  angry 
bark. 

The  Indian  girl  sprang  lightly  aside,  however, 
picked  up  a  handful  of  sand,  and  cast  it  at  the  dog ; 
and  then,  speeding  across  the  little  beach  with  in- 
incredible  swiftness,  leaped  into  the  canoe,  and 
with  a  stroke  of  the  paddle  drove  it  away  from  the 
shore. 

"  Stop  !  stop  !  "  cried  Angelique,  running  down  to  the 
water's  edge.  "  Oh,  come  back  !  I  do  not  want  the 
heart  of  Major  Gladwin  ;  he  says  not  a  word  to  me  of 
love.  Go  and  tell  him  what  you  know  of  the  evil  de- 


FOR   THE    MASTERY    OF   A   SOUL     103 

signs  of  these  warriors.  Thus  you  will  win  his  grati- 
tude. Save  him,  and  I  will  pray  that  one  day  you 
may  be  loved,  even  as  the  fairest  and  purest  of  white 
women  wish  to  be  loved  !  " 

Like  the  call  of  "  Kawyawshe,"  the  soft-plumaged 
gull,  her  voice  rang  out  over  the  water ;  but  Nedaw- 
niss,  the  daughter  of  Makatepelicite,  looked  back  with 
a  malicious  smile,  laughed  mockingly,  shook  her  head, 
and  paddled  away,  leaving  Angelique  to  wonder  dis- 
tractedly if  she  would  heed  this  last  appeal,  or  whether 
she  was  stonily  resolved  to  keep  locked  within  her  own 
breast  the  secret  that  might  mean  so  much  to  the  Eng- 
lish at  the  fort. 

"  Perhaps  after  all,  Catherine  only  wanted  to  frighten 
me,  and  there  is  no  secret  at  all,"  said  the  little  demoi- 
selle to  herself. 

As  she  started  to  return  to  the  house,  a  snow  white 
pigeon  from  the  wood  winged  past  her,  so  near  that 
she  could  almost  have  caught  it  in  her  hand.  Ange- 
lique paused  and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  her 
breast ;  she  shared  the  Canadian  superstition  that  a 
bird  coming  thus  might  be  the  soul  of  some  departed 
friend  for  whom  she  had  forgotten  to  pray. 

During  the  evening  she  could  not  shake  off  the 
spell  that  the  Indian's  visit  seemed  to  have  cast  upon 
her;  and  when  she  retired  to  her  own  little  nook  under 
the  eaves,  it  was  to  dream  of  the  Chase-Galere,  —  that 
phantom  barque  which  to  the  French-Canadian  be- 
tokens approaching  misfortune  to  himself  or  those 
dear  to  him.  Scarcely  had  it  vanished  than,  in  her 
troubled  sleep,  she  saw  black,  rough-coated  dogs, 
coursing  as  if  in  the  scent  of  game  upon  the  waters 
of  the  strait;  and,  running  up  the  c6te  to  evade  them, 
she  found  that  the  clear  stream  of  Parant's  Creek 
flowed  red  with  blood. 


104     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

From  this  uneasy  slumber  Angelique  awoke,  roused 
by  some  subtle  sub-consciousness  rather  than  by  any 
definite  sound,  though,  after  a  preliminary  grumble, 
the  old  clock  in  the  hearthroom  presently  spoke,  an- 
nouncing the  time  to  be  two  hours  past  midnight. 

The  loft  was  dark,  but  in  the  angle  opposite  to  her 
Tante  Josette  was  sleeping  the  sleep  of  the  just.  A 
few  moments  elapsed,  then  it  seemed  to  the  girl  that 
she  heard  the  murmur  of  subdued  conversation  in  the 
room  beneath.  Yes,  a  strange  man  was  talking  to  her 
father. 

A  visitor  at  this  hour  ?  What  could  it  mean  ?  Un- 
til recently  life  upon  the  banks  of  Le  Detroit  had  been 
so  simple.  Now  some  hidden  scheme  might  lurk 
under  the  most  commonplace  incident  of  the  day. 
How  much  of  mystery  might  there  not  be  in  this  con- 
ference held  in  the  heart  of  the  night !  The  Chase- 
Galere,  the  hunting  dogs !  Was  this  stranger  the 
embodiment  of  still  another  warning  of  calamity,  the 
solitary  spectral  huntsman  with  gaunt,  bronzed  face, 
sometimes  seen  in  the  sky  after  sunset,  rifle  in  hand, 
and  followed  by  a  pack  of  wolfish  hounds  ?  At  this 
time  it  behooved  every  one  to  know  what  was  going  on. 

Noiselessly  Angelique  rose.  Like  a  shade  of  the 
night,  in  her  dark  woollen  robe,  her  soft  curls  falling  in 
disorder  upon  her  shoulders,  she  raised  the  deerskin 
curtain,  and  entered  the  outer  apartment  of  the  loft. 
Here  two  of  the  younger  children  lay  in  a  sound 
sleep.  Passing  them,  she  crept  to  the  opening  from 
which  the  stair  led  to  the  first  story  of  the  building. 
The  air  was  cool,  and,  as  she  expected,  the  remnant 
of  a  small  fire,  kindled  to  prepare  the  belated  supper 
of  the  master  of  the  house,  had  been  raked  out  and 
another  brand  cast  upon  the  embers,  but  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  light  rather  than  heat,  the  blaze  being 


FOR   THE    MASTERY    OF   A   SOUL     105 

screened  from  the  outer  world  by  the  leather  hangings 
at  the  windows. 

Crouching  upon  the  floor,  she  crept  to  the  edge  of 
the  opening  and  looked  down.  The  sight  that  met 
her  eyes  caused  her  to  shrink  back  quickly,  and  only 
by  a  rare  presence  of  mind  did  she  refrain  from  an 
exclamation  of  amazement. 

Upon  the  table  of  forest  pine  in  the  centre  of  the 
hearthroom  was  placed  the  rudely  made  armchair 
that  usually  stood  beside  the  hearth,  and  seated 
therein  was  her  father.  Yes,  Antoine  Cuillerier,  yet 
at  first  glance  she  had  not  known  him.  Instead  of 
his  wonted  attire,  the  bourgeois  wore  a  military  coat 
of  azure  color,  heavily  overwrought  with  gold  lace; 
from  the  left  shoulder  across  his  breast  extended  a 
broad  crimson  sash,  in  imitation  of  the  decoration  of 
the  Order  of  St.  Louis;  and  upon  his  head  was  a 
three-cornered  hat,  adorned  with  ribbons  of  red  and 
azure,  and  ornamented  with  quills  of  the  wild  turkey. 

His  daughter  at  once  recognized  the  coat  as  hav- 
ing belonged  to  Monsieur  de  Bellestre.  Her  first 
impulse  was  to  laugh  silently  over  her  father's  fan- 
tastic dignity,  yet  the  next  moment  she  was  more 
inclined  to  weep.  Was  not  this  masquerading  an 
evidence  that  his  mind  had  grown  distraught  over  the 
fading  away  of  the  power  of  New  France,  even  as  she 
had  sometimes  feared  would  be  the  case? 

Singular  as  was  his  appearance,  her  glance  soon 
passed  from  him  to  the  guest,  who  had  been,  clearly, 
expected,  yet  of  whose  presence  the  remainder  of 
the  household  were  ignorant.  Nearer  the  fire,  but 
with  his  back  to  it  as  he  faced  the  queerly  arrayed 
figure  in  the  chair  that  parodied  a  throne,  stood  an 
Indian  chief.  Of  itself  there  was  nothing  unusual  in 
the  presence  of  the  warrior,  since  the  redmen  had 


io6    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

ever  been  made  welcome  at  the  hearth  of  Cuillerier 
dit  Beaubien,  and,  had  the  demoiselle  seen  the  sav- 
age lying  wrapped  in  his  blanket  before  the  fire,  she 
would  have  been  in  no  wise  dismayed.  But  why 
this  covert  council?  Why  did  her  father  affect  this 
bizarre  and  pompous  state?  She  looked  again;  the 
muscular  form  of  the  Indian  clad  in  a  tunic  of  cotton 
cloth  was  finer  in  its  physical  perfection  than  any  of 
the  splendid  bronzes  in  King  Louis'  great  palace  of 
Versailles.  Angelique  was,  however,  impressed  only 
by  its  strength.  As  he  turned  his  head  so  that  his 
dark  features  were  in  silhouette  against  the  light  of 
the  fire,  she  saw  that  below  the  flowing  hair,  wherein 
was  thrust  a  single  eagle's  feather,  the  unpainted  face 
was  intelligent  and  bold,  the  nose  aquiline,  and  the 
eyes  remarkably  keen  and  piercing. 

The  secret  guest  was  none  other  than  the  great  Pon- 
tiac,  and  this  conference  between  the  King  of  the 
Wilderness  and  Antoine  Cuillerier  must  have  refer- 
ence to  a  matter  of  importance. 

With  feminine  curiosity,  still  further  piqued  by 
anxiety,  Angelique  listened  intently,  for  the  chief 
was  speaking. 

"  The  French  came  into  the  country  of  my  fathers, 
and  they  were  welcomed  because  they  are  the  broth- 
ers of  the  redmen,"  he  said,  using  the  patois  in  which 
she  had  conversed  with  Catherine.  "  For  the  skins 
of  the  beaver,  the  Frenchman  gave  his  red  brother  a 
gun  that  speaks  with  fire,  and  powder  and  bullets  as 
food  for  the  gun.  He  gave  him  cloth  and  blankets. 
Once  the  redman  shot  the  deer  with  arrows  headed 
with  jasper,  and  knew  no  meat,  clothing,  or  weapons 
other  than  that  he  found  in  the  forest.  Now  it  is  not 
so,  and  these  new  people  give  us  nothing;  want,  suf- 
ferings, and  death  stare  us  in  the  face.  When  I  and 


FOR   THE   MASTERY   OF   A    SOUL     107 

my  warriors  paid  visits  to  the  posts  of  the  French,  we 
were  treated  with  respect.  I  no  longer  go  down  to 
Fort  Pontchartrain,  for  I  should  be  met  with  cold 
looks.  My  braves  are  received  with  oaths,  threats, 
and  even  blows  by  the  soldiers.  Many  coureurs  de 
bois  and  voyageurs  say  that  the  King  of  France  has 
but  fallen  asleep,  and  thus  the  English  have  taken  his 
forts  and  the  lands  of  his  red  allies.  Why  do  you 
not  wake  him?  Tell  me,  Blue  Coat,  you  who  hold 
for  him  here  the  place  of  our  father,  Monsieur  de 
Bellestre?" 

As  he  spoke  these  last  words  in  a  tone  of  sup- 
pressed passion,  Pontiac  turned  to  his  host  with  fierce 
inquiry. 

Antoine  Cuillerier  smiled  blandly.  So  great  was 
his  vanity  and  self-conceit  that  they  made  him  obliv- 
ious of  the  risk  he  ran  in  attempting  to  hoodwink 
this  hawk-eyed  champion  of  a  powerful  race. 

"  The  King  of  France  is  so  rich  he  cares  not  if  he 
loses  many  forts  while  he  sleeps,"  he  answered,  with 
complaisance.  "  Nevertheless,  his  Majesty  is  now 
awake;  he  pities  the  losses  of  his  children,  and  is 
angry  because  of  the  wrong  done  them.  The  corn 
is  now  sprouting;  before  it  is  a  foot  high,  his  armies 
will  come  to  reconquer  the  forts  that  have  been  lost 
to  his  crown.  The  French  and  their  Indian  brother, 
fighting  side  by  side,  as  they  have  done  before,  will 
drive  the  red-coated  dogs  back  to  the  south." 

"  It  is  well,"  returned  Pontiac  sullenly.  "  Yet  I  do 
not  care  to  await  the  pleasure  of  the  French  King.  I 
will  begin  the  work,  and  when  he  sends  his  war 
canoes  to  the  strait  and  to  the  Lakes,  his  soldiers  can 
finish  it.  I  am  head  of  many  tribes.  The  Ottawas, 
the  Ojibwas,  the  Pottawattomies,  obey  my  will.  They 
delay  only  until  the  time  I  have  named." 


io8    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  And  you  have  held  a  council,  I  hear,"  said  Cuil- 
lerier,  with  a  gracious  nod  of  the  head,  which  might 
have  been  becoming  in  a  prince,  but  was  somewhat 
ludicrous  from  a  man  perched  thus  upon  the  table. 

His  ostentation  might  have  impressed  other  of  his 
forest  friends,  but  Angelique's  quick  eyes  read  be- 
neath the  imperturbability  of  the  Great  Chief  a  scorn 
of  Antoine's  absurd  pretensions,  and  in  the  darkness 
she  felt  her  cheeks  grow  hot  with  mortification  that 
her  father  should  thus  lower  himself  before  the 
savage. 

"  The  Blue  Coat  has  said  it,"  replied  Pontiac ;  "  I 
spoke  to  many  warriors  at  the  Ecorse.  The  moon 
now  shows  but  little  of  her  face ;  when  she  shows  all 
her  face  the  English  will  have  vanished  from  this 
part  of  the  earth.  But,  what  is  that?  Once  before 
I  heard  it!  'Twas  like  a  bird  stirring  in  its  nest. 
Does  the  darkness  listen?"  asked  the  chief,  breaking 
off  abruptly. 

His  ear,  trained  to  detect  the  slightest  rustle  of 
leaves  in  the  forest,  had  caught  the  sound  of  some 
slight  motion  of  Angelique's. 

"  One  of  the  pappooses  in  the  loft  has  no  doubt 
grown  uneasy  in  his  sleep,"  answered  Cuillerier,  with 
a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"None  but  pappooses  are  there?"  demanded 
Pontiac. 

"  None  but  pappooses,"  responded  Antoine ;  and 
he  thought  he  said  truly,  for  to  him  Angelique  was 
still  one  of  the  children,  and  he  had  forgotten  Tante 
Josette. 

The  Great  Chief  eyed  him  for  a  moment  with 
sternness.  But  the  French  had  everything  to  gain  and 
nothing  to  lose  by  the  splendid  conspiracy  planned 
by  the  masterly  brain  of  the  Indian ;  and  Antoine 


FOR   THE   MASTERY   OF   A   SOUL     109 

Cuillerier  professed  to  hate  the  English  as  bitterly  as 
did  Pontiac  himself.  It  did  not  seem  possible,  there- 
fore, even  to  the  wily  savage,  that,  under  the  roof  of 
the  man  who  assumed  to  be  the  representative  of  the 
French  power  at  the  strait,  there  might  be  listening 
one  who  would  wish  to  thwart  his  bold  design  to 
banish  the  intruders  from  the  region  which  his  fathers 
and  the  nation  of  the  fleur-de-lis  had  for  so  long  gov- 
erned together  in  peace. 

At  his  inquiry,  Angelique  lay  motionless  upon  the 
floor  above,  scarcely  daring  to  breathe,  and  expecting 
discovery  at  every  moment;  discovery  that  would 
mean,  as  well,  the  loss  of  all  opportunity  to  warn 
those  against  whom  the  Ottawa  was  maturing  his  plot 
with  such  remarkable  sagacity,  opposed  only  by  a 
lukewarm  expression  of  deprecation  now  and  then 
on  the  part  of  her  father. 

"  Angel  of  the  night,  shield  and  hide  me  beneath 
thy  protecting  wings,"  she  ejaculated  mentally. 

But  Antoine  had  met  the  glance  of  the  visitor  so 
frankly  that  the  latter's  momentary  suspicion  was 
dispelled.  In  a  species  of  exultation,  as  though  he 
verily  believed  himself  chosen  by  the  Gitchie  Mani- 
tou  for  a  sublime  task,  and  rendered  rash  by  his 
indomitable  pride  and  a  generous  draught  of  eau-de- 
vie  which  Antoine  had  hospitably  pressed  upon  him, 
he  went  on,  revealing  to  his  friend  the  French  trader 
more  of  his  scheme  than  his  customary  caution  would 
have  permitted  him  to  do. 

In  the  gray  of  the  early  morning  he  left  the 
house  as  silently  as  he  had  entered  it.  Antoine  Cuil- 
lerier had  long  since  descended  from  his  chair  of 
state  to  join  his  guest  in  a  potation.  Now,  at  the 
departure  of  the  chief,  being  in  a  heavy  stupor, 
he  sank  upon  the  settle.  When  his  regular  breath- 


no     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

ing,  punctuated  at  intervals  by  a  sonorous  sound, 
proclaimed  him  unconscious  of  all  around  him,  An- 
gelique  ventured  to  get  upon  her  feet,  and,  with  aching 
bones  and  a  chill  of  terror  at  her  heart,  made  her  way 
back  to  her  alcove  at  the  end  of  the  loft.  Not  to 
sleep,  however,  but  to  remain  there,  trembling  and 
praying,  until  the  others  of  the  household  were 
astir. 


CHAPTER  NINTH 

IN  THE  MISSION  ORCHARD 

ACROSS  the  river,  some  distance  below  the  fort, 
Father  Pierre  Potier  walked  in  the  orchard  of 
the  Huron  Mission.  He  was  sixty  years  of  age,  over 
six  feet  in  height,  and  his  commanding  frame,  clad  in 
a  Jesuit's  gown  of  rusty  black,  was  strong  as  iron.  He 
had  a  long,  lean  face ;  a  circle  of  gray  hair  showed 
beneath  his  black  skull-cap;  a  thin  fringe  of  beard 
outlined  rather  than  concealed  his  chin;  and  his 
light  eyes,  though  gentle,  were  so  penetrating  in  their 
gaze  that  both  French  and  Indians  often  felt  that  he 
read  their  motives  and  actions  as  though  their  hearts 
were  a  printed  page  before  him. 

The  orchard  was  a  pleasant  spot  on  this  afternoon 
of  the  6th  of  May,  1763.  Seen  from  afar,  it  resem- 
bled a  great  white  garland,  Nature's  offering  to  the 
Creator,  laid  before  the  door  of  the  mission  chapel, 
even  as  the  children  of  the  forest  were  wont  to 
present  their  gifts.  At  a  nearer  view,  the  white  mass 
resolved  itself  into  a  score  of  apple  and  pear  trees, 
offshoots  of  orchards  in  old  France,  planted  here 
some  thirty-five  years  before,  when  the  mission  was 
founded  by  the  beloved  Father  de  la  Richardie. 

As  Monsieur  Potier  paused  occasionally  to  con- 
template now  one  carefully  nurtured  tree  and  again 
another,  each  appeared  in  itself,  too,  a  beautiful  bou- 
quet. The  first,  perhaps,  white  as  the  snowflakes 
that  had  so  often  rested  upon  its  branches  during  the 


ii2     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

long  winter ;  the  last  pink-tinted,  like  the  modest 
flush  in  the  cheeks  of  the  little  French  maidens,  when 
they  came  across  the  strait  to  kneel  beside  the  Indian 
girls  in  the  chapel,  and,  awaiting  their  turn  with  the 
latter,  to  kneel  at  the  feet  of  the  missionary,  and  con- 
fess their  simple  faults.  For  he  was  thought  to  be 
more  forbearing  with  his  penitents  than  was  the 
zealous  cure  of  Ste.  Anne's. 

Among  the  blossom-laden  boughs  the  birds  chirped 
and  sang,  busied  with  their  wooing  or  nest-building. 
The  sunshine  was  all-pervading,  the  very  air  was 
fragrant.  The  grass  under  the  trees  was  soft  and 
green,  and  dotted  with  violets.  White  and  yellow 
butterflies  flitted  about;  the  young  French  maidens 
would  have  called  them  the  souls  of  little  children, 
come  back  to  play  in  the  spring  sunshine,  but  they 
would  have  been  gravely  chided  for  the  pretty  super- 
stition by  the  good  father.  The  bees,  too,  sang  their 
spring  song,  as  they  flew  about  their  work.  Was 
honey  ever  sweeter  than  the  honey  garnered  from 
the  blossoms  of  this  orchard,  and  stored  in  the  hives 
beyond  the  mission  house? 

The  quiet  spot  was  indeed  a  peaceful  retreat.  Just 
here  the  line  of  clay  bluffs  that  extends  along  the 
edge  of  the  stream  sinks  to  the  water's  margin,  and 
ends  in  a  crescent  bay,  with  beautifully  sanded  shores. 
Father  de  la  Richardie  had  called  the  place  Pointe 
de  Montreal ;  and  as  the  latter's  successor  walked  to 
and  fro,  repeating  the  psalms  from  the  breviary,  he 
commanded  an  extensive  view  of  the  river,  both  in 
the  direction  of  the  Lake  of  the  Eries,  and  upward 
toward  the  Isle  au  Cochon,  the  Isle  au  P£che,  and 
the  Lake  of  Ste.  Claire. 

How  fair  were  the  clear  waters,  —  yonder,  blue  as 
the  Bay  of  Biscay  across  which  he  had  looked  for 


IN   THE   MISSION   ORCHARD         113 

the  last  time  upon  the  land^of  France,  and  in  the 
distance  a  gleaming  flood  of  gold  and  silver.  So 
tranquil  was  the  afternoon,  so  solitary  the  environ- 
ment, one  might  have  imagined  the  strait  still  undis- 
covered in  the  wilderness. 

The  mission  house  was  a  long,  low  structure  of 
huge,  squared  timbers,  with  wide  white  chimneys,  and 
three  dormers  in  the  roof;  rough  and  plain,  but  well 
builded  as  forest  logs  and  honest  toil  could  make  it, 
that  it  might  be  for  many  years  the  headquarters  of 
any  Jesuit  missionaries  who  roamed  the  wilderness 
south  of  Michilimackinac.  Beside  the  mission  stood 
the  Huron  chapel,  also  constructed  of  squared  pine 
timbers  upon  solid  stone  foundations.  Near  by  were 
a  forge  and  a  storehouse,  the  place  being  a  fur- 
trading  centre.  Here  the  Indians  could  sell  their 
pelts,  and  obtain  supplies  by  just  barter,  without  fear 
of  being  defrauded  of  their  furs  by  a  drahm  of  eau-de- 
vie,  or  English  rum,  as  was  so  often  the  case  when 
they  dealt  with  the  ordinary  traders. 

On  this  bright  May  afternoon,  all  the  buildings 
were  in  perfect  repair,  owing  to  the  supervision  and 
often  to  the  personal  exertions  of  Father  Potier.  To 
his  Indians,  he  was  not  only  the  priest  charged  with 
the  care  of  their  souls,  but  the  friend  who  taught 
them,  as  far  as  they  were  capable  of  learning,  the 
agricultural  arts  of  civilization.  The  mission  farm 
was  intended  to  be  to  them  a  model,  as  well  as  to  lay 
up  a  store  of  food  for  them  in  time  of  famine ;  since, 
fertile  as  was  the  region,  the  frequent  wars  among  the 
various  tribes  sometimes  brought  the  aborigines  to 
hunger  and  destitution. 

It  was  the  hour  of  the  "  sieste,"  or  afternoon  re- 
pose, which  the  French-Canadian  observes  with  ex- 
treme conscientiousness.  The  accustomed  sound  of 


ii4     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

the  hammer  ringing  upon  the  anvil  of  the  forge  was 
stilled  for  the  time  being.  L'Esperance,  the  mission 
farmer,  who  had  been  planting  vegetables  in  the 
fields,  lay  down  between  the  furrows  of  the  plough, 
and  went  to  sleep.  Brother  Regis  in  the  kitchen 
dozed  in  his  chair;  good  man,  he  had  been  active 
about  many  tasks  since  early  morning.  Even  the  eyes 
of  Father  Potier  grew  a  trifle  heavy,  but  his  alert,  ner- 
vous temperament  scorned  the  "  sieste,"  and  this  hour 
he  was  wont  to  keep  free  for  a  walk  in  the  orchard. 

"  Great  are  the  works  of  the  Lord ;  exquisite  and 
agreeable  are  all  His  designs,"  read  the  priest  from 
his  book.  Then  he  looked  up,  meditating  on  the 
words  whose  truth  was  so  forcibly  exemplified  by  the 
scene  before  him.  As  his  gaze  rested  upon  the  river, 
a  small  dark  object  on  its  surface  recalled  him 
from  his  pious  abstraction.  It  was  a  little  canoe,  and 
but  a  few  minutes  of  observation  sufficed  to  show 
that  the  paddler  was  making  for  the  beach  in  front  of 
the  mission. 

Before  long  the  canoe  ^had  come  close  to  the  shore, 
then  it  disappeared ;  no  doubt  the  canoeist  was  now 
concealing  the  light  skiff  among  the  high  reeds  of  the 
marsh. 

Who  was  the  visitor?  A  messenger  from  the 
town,  a  habitant  or  Huron  come  to  buy  an  axe  or 
some  farm  implement  at  the  forge?  So  tardy  was 
the  stranger  in  appearing  that  Monsieur  Potier 
almost  forgot  there  was  a  stranger,  and  returned  to 
the  recital  of  his  office. 

Quarter  of  an  hour  passed ;  chancing  to  raise  his 
eyes,  he  saw,  advancing  toward  him  under  the  newly 
green  trees,  a  young  girl,  whom  he  presently  recog- 
nized as  the  daughter  of  the  rich  trader,  Antoine 
Cuillerier. 


IN   THE   MISSION    ORCHARD          115 

"  Little  Angelique !  "  he  exclaimed  paternally, 
when,  anon,  she  came  up  to  him  and  bent  her  head 
for  his  blessing,  "  was  it  your  canoe  I  saw  on  the 
river  awhile  ago  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  father,"  she  answered  demurely. 

It  was  not  necessary  to  explain  that,  fearing  lest 
water-soaked  moccasins  might  attract  attention  to 
herself  later,  she  had,  ere  landing,  taken  off  shoes  and 
hose,  and,  having  beached  her  boat,  had  stopped  to 
put  them  on  again. 

"  But  we  have  not  service  in  the  chapel  this  after- 
noon," said  the  missionary,  "  and  you  should  not  come 
to  the  southern  shore  unaccompanied." 

"  That  I  know,  Father  Pierre,"  she  stammered,  in  a 
low  voice ;  "  still,  I  had  to  come." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  continued  the  holy  man,  with  a  shade 
of  impatience,  thinking  she  had  brought  to  him  some 
girlish  matter  of  conscience.  "  Say  your  prayers, 
try  to  do  your  duty,  and  worry  not  your  heart  with 
foolish  scruples.  Remember,  God  is  not  a  stepfather, 
and  come  to  confession  on  the  regular  day." 

As  he  concluded,  looking  fixedly  at  her  for  the 
first  time,  he  noted  with  surprise  that  her  round  face, 
usually  glowing  with  color,  was  quite  pale ;  her  eyes, 
so  quick  to  light  up  with  merriment,  were  grave  and 
quiet;  and  her  red  lips,  ever  so  near  to  smiling,  wore 
a  determined  expression  that  betokened  the  presence 
of  a  stronger  character  behind  the  charming  youthful 
countenance  than  the  girl  had  ever  before  shown  that 
she  possessed. 

"Angelique,  my  daughter,  what  has  happened?" 
he  inquired,  with  his  habitual  kindliness,  his  concern 
being  at  once  aroused  at  the  trouble  he  saw  mirrored 
in  her  earnest  gaze.  "  Go  into  the  chapel,  and  before 
the  altar  you  shall  tell  me  if  you  wish." 


u6     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  girl,  "  even  the  walls  of  the 
church  might  have  ears.  I  will  tell  you  here  under 
God's  own  sky ;  here,  where  the  river  and  the  land 
can  be  seen  on  every  side.  Take  your  place  on  the 
bench  under  this  apple  tree,  my  father,  and  I  will 
kneel  by  your  side  and  whisper  it  to  you.  I  have 
not  come  to  tell  my  own  sins  to-day,  yet  what  I  have 
to  say  should  surely  be  spoken  on  bended  knees." 

"  Child,  you  cannot  confess  another's  guilt.  But 
if  there  is  some  wrong  that  in  charity  or  justice  I  can 
right,  tell  me  where  we  stand.  If  you  need  the 
counsel  of  the  missionary,  speak  without  fear." 

"  My  father,"  began  Angelique,  "  from  before  the 
light  of  day  until  an  hour  since,  I  have  been  praying 
and  considering,  seeking  to  know  how  I  had  best  act, 
and  at  last  I  decided  to  ask  advice  from  you.  On  the 
one  hand,  I  am  a  French  girl  with  all  my  heart,  and 
I  would  not  for  the  wealth  in  the  King's  grand  palace 
of  Versailles  do  anything  that  would  put  off,  so  much 
as  by  a  day,  the  restoration  of  the  power  of  New 
France.  Would  you  not  like  to  see  the  white  banner 
of  the  fleur-de-lis  floating  again  above  the  fort  across 
the  river,  Father  Pierre  ?  " 

"Ay,  that  I  would,  if  God  so  willed,"  answered 
the  priest,  his  eyes  kindling  with  enthusiasm  as  his 
thoughts  went  back  to  his  native  land  beyond  the 
seas,  and  dwelt  upon  the  glories  won  by  her  armies 
in  the  days  of  the  Sun  King.  "  iVlany  times  have  I 
petitioned  that  Providence  would  give  back  to  Canada, 
the  youngest  daughter  of  the  Church,  the  possessions 
she  has  lost." 

"  Yes,"  sighed  Angelique,  casting  down  her  eyes 
and  clasping  her  palms  together  dejectedly.  "  Yet 
my  soul  revolts  against  the  means  by  which,  it  is 
said,  this  ascendency  of  my  country  may  be  brough* 


IN   THE    MISSION   ORCHARD          117 

about.  To  a  woman  all  wars  are  cruel !  How  can 
she  judge  of  plans  that,  coming  to  her  ears,  seem  bar- 
barous, yet  may  be  a  paying  back  to  our  conquerors 
of  what  they  have  done  to  us?" 

"  My  child,"  replied  Monsieur  Potier,  "  you  speak 
in  enigmas.  We  are  no  longer  at  war  with  the  Eng- 
lish ;  only  the  King  can  fling  down  the  gage  anew  by 
declaring  that  he  will  not  abide  by  the  capitulation  of 
Montreal.  This,  however,  I  have  good  reason  to 
believe  he  has  no  intention  of  doing.  His  northern 
provinces  of  America  must,  therefore,  adhere  to  the 
terms  of  the  capitulation.  Ah,  little  Angelique,  our 
people  love  the  fleur-de-lis,  they  love  their  country ; 
but  more  than  the  flag,  more  even  than  their  freedom, 
they  love  their  own  faith  and  honor  and  the  faith  and 
honor  of  New  France." 

"  Yes,  that  is  it  —  the  faith  and  honor  of  New 
France,"  repeated  the  girl,  as  if  his  words  made  clear 
her  own  confused  'thought.  "  The  fair  fame  of  my 
country  which  must  remain  as  unsullied  as  the  hearts 
of  her  daughters.  Listen,  then,  my  father." 

As  the  girl  hurriedly  told  of  what  she  and  Madame 
St.  Aubin  had  seen  in  the  Ottawa  village,  Father  Potier 
started,  but  did  not  interrupt  the  story. 

"  The  dame  told  many  of  our  neighbors,"  concluded 
Angelique,  "  and  Meloche,  the  blacksmith,  said  that 
of  late  Indians  had  visited  his  forge  and  tried  to  bor- 
row files,  yet  would  not  say  for  what  they  wanted 
them.  Casse  St.  Aubin  and  Monsieur  Guyon  went 
to  the  fort  and  repeated  the  tale  to  Major  Gladwin, 
but  he  only  laughed  at  them.  He  is  so  brave  that  he 
makes  light  of  every  danger." 

The  priest  shot  a  keen  glance  at  the  youthful  face 
beside  him  ;  but  the  girl  returned  his  look  of  shrewd 
inquiry  with  one  of  perfect  simplicity  and  candor. 


u8     THE    HEROINE   OF    THE   STRAIT 

"It  is  well  for  a  soldier  to  have  unflinching  courage, 
but  foolhardiness  is  a  fault,"  he  said  grimly.  "  I  must 
look  into  this  matter.  Is  it  possible  the  files  could 
have  been  bought  at  the  mission  forge  ?  If  so,  Ce- 
cille,  our  smith  and  cutler  has  been  most  remiss  in 
not  having  informed  me  of  the  transaction." 

He  turned  about,  and  started  for  the  forge. 

"  But  that  is  not  all,  Father  Pierre,"  cried  Ange- 
lique,  stretching  out  a  hand  to  detain  him. 

Immediately  arresting  his  steps,  he  asked  with 
gentleness,  — 

"What  more,  child?  Make  haste;  this  matter 
must  be  sifted  without  delay." 

"  It  is  only  the  beginning,"  gasped  the  little  demoi- 
selle, faltering  for  a  moment  in  her  excitement,  but 
presently  recovering  her  former  quick  intensity,  as 
she  went  on  to  describe  Antoine  Cuillerier's  midnight 
visitor,  and  what  she  had  heard  in  the  hearthroom. 

"  I  heard  the  Great  Chief  say,"  added  Angelique, 
pausing  only  to  take  breath,  "  that  in  the  Moon  of 
the  Maize,  while  he  fasted  and  prayed  to  his  manitou 
beside  the  bones  of  the  Ottawa  prophet  on  the  Isle 
au  P£che,  in  a  vision  he  saw  marked  out  for  him  a 
wonderful  and  awful  plan.  Before  the  snows  came 
he  sent  runners  through  the  forest,  and  his  messenger 
canoes  upon  the  waters,  to  the  north,  far  beyond  the 
Sleeping  Bear1  and  the  Straits  of  Michilimackinac; 
to  the  borders  of  the  river  Ottawa,  and  south  along 
the  river  of  Le  Pere  Marquette.  The  time  was  set 
for  the  Moon  of  Flowers,  —  this  moon,  Father  Pierre. 
The  tribes  are  to  rise  together;  each  is  to  destroy 
the  English  garrison  in  its  neighborhood,  and  then, 
like  a  whirlwind  sweeping  over  the  prairie,  all  are  to 
turn  against  the  settlements  of  the  frontier." 

1  Sleeping  Bear  —  a  point  of  land  on  Lake  Michigan. 


IN   THE   MISSION   ORCHARD          119 

"  Grand  Dieu !  what  a  retribution  the  savages 
would  fain  visit  upon  the  conquerors  for  their  rapacity 
and  injustice,"  exclaimed  the  missionary,  paling 
slightly,  despite  his  well-known  intrepidity;  for  he 
had  more  than  the  courage  of  a  soldier.  His  was  the 
fortitude  that  upholds  the  martyr  for  faith  or  duty. 
He  was  ready  to  lay  down  his  life  at  any  moment  in 
the  performance  of  his  office.  "  Grand  Dieu  !  To 
think  that  such  a  diabolical  scheme  was  hatched 
under  our  very  eyes,  yet  we  have  known  nothing  of 
it !  Is  it  not  possible  you  may  have  misunderstood 
the  patois  of  the  chief,  my  daughter?" 

"  I  am  quite  sure  I  heard  aright,"  was  the  sobbing 
answer. 

"  And  what  said  Antoine  Cuillerier  of  this  plot?" 

"  Oh,  Monsieur  Potier,"  faltered  the  girl,  covering 
her  face  with  her  hands  and  sinking  upon  the  bench 
under  the  apple  tree  in  an  agony  of  emotion.  But 
after  a  few  moments  she  grew  calm  again,  and,  look- 
ing up,  replied,  — 

"  My  own  father,  Antoine  Cuillerier,  said  nothing 
in  approval  of  the  plan ;  indeed,  he  counselled  delay. 
Still,  I  grieve  to  tell,  he  sought  but  weakly  to  dis- 
suade the  chief,  his  friend.  Perhaps  he  saw  that  all 
argument  would  be  in  vain.  He  broods  much  over 
the  downfall  of  New  France.  The  misfortunes  of  our 
unhappy  country  have  unsettled  his  mind,  I  fear; 
and  Pontiac  humored  him,  saying  he  shall  be  gov- 
ernor here  when  the  Indians  restore  Le  Detroit  to 
the  French.  He,  on  his  part,  told  the  savage  that 
the  armies  of  King  Louis  are  advancing  up  the 
St.  Lawrence  and  the  river  of  Le  Pere  Marquette, 
to  drive  the  English  from  the  hunting-grounds  of  his 
red  children." 

"  Juste  ciel,  it  is  false !  "   cried  Father  Potier,  in 


120     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

great  excitement.  "  A  missionary  came  in  from  the 
forest  yesterday  and  was  gone  this  morning.  He 
had  been  at  Montreal,  and  brought  news  that  his 
Majesty  King  Louis  is  like  to  sign  a  treaty  with  the 
English,  ceding  to  them  his  provinces  of  New  France, 
all  save  Louisiana  in  the  far  south.  Angelique,  you 
have  acted  wisely  in  coming  to  me.  I  will  go  at  once 
to  Major  Gladwin.  When  the  plot  is  unfolded  to 
him,  he  will  be  convinced  of  the  peril  that  menaces 
his  garrison." 

"  No,  no,  Father  Pierre !  "  cried  the  girl,  springing 
to  her  feet.  "  Were  it  known  that  you  warned  the 
English,  who  would  stand  between  the  French  and 
the  savages?" 

"There  is  sageness  in  what  you  say,  child,"  re- 
joined the  priest;  "nevertheless,  we  must  fight  each 
evil  as  we  come  to  it." 

"  My  father,  I  came  to  tell  you,  but  I  have  thought 
it  all  out,"  she  continued  ardently.  "  From  here  I 
shall  float  in  my  canoe  up  the  river  to  the  mouth  of 
the  Rigolet  des  Hurons.  Paddling  along  the  stream, 
I  shall  go  into  the  fort  by  the  northern  postern  and 
thence  to  the  house  of  my  aunt,  Madame  des  Ruis- 
seaux,  who  will  despatch  a  servant  for  the  canoe. 
She  will  also  send  and  invite  Major  Gladwin  to  sup- 
per at  her  house.  During  the  evening  I  will  contrive 
to  get  a  few  words  with  him  apart.  Thus  I  shall  tell 
him,  and  no  one  else  will  be  the  wiser." 

Father  Potier  glanced  again  at  the  demoiselle,  im- 
pressed by  the  readiness  of  her  woman's  wit  that  had 
found  so  facile  a  solution  of  the  difficulty.  Was  her 
courage  in  wishing  to  go  to  reveal  this  plot  prompted 
by  a  more  than  ordinary  interest  in  the  gallant  young 
commandant?  It  had  been  reported  long  ago  that 
the  latter  would  gladly  gain  the  favor  of  the  French 


IN   THE   MISSION   ORCHARD          121 

by  a  marriage  with  the  daughter  of  the  wealthy 
Cuillerier.  However  matters  stood  between  the 
Englishman  and  Angelique,  her  project  was  the  best 
that  could  be  devised.  If  he,  Pierre  Potier,  went  to 
the  fort  now,  his  Hurons  would,  in  the  light  of  subse- 
quent events,  suspect  him  of  having  learned  of  the 
conspiracy  and  disclosed  it,  and  his  power  to  hold 
them  in  check,  if  ever  so  little,  would  be  gone. 
Then  he  could  neither  aid  the  French  nor  the  Eng- 
lish in  the  coming  struggle.  What  could  be  more 
natural  than  that  the  girl  should  go  to  the  house  of 
her  aunt?  And,  since  no  Indians  were  permitted  about 
the  fort  after  dusk,  Pontiac  would  not  be  likely  ever 
to  learn  that  the  news  had  been  conveyed  to  Glad- 
win.  Still,  the  missionary  hesitated. 

"  I  am  going,  my  father ;  do  not  seek  to  dissuade 
me,"  repeated  Angelique,  with  decision. 

Father  Potier  sighed.  Yes,  for  the  sake  of  those 
whom  he  would  fain  save,  he  must  refrain  from  going 
himself;  yet  he  was  loath  to  let  the  girl  have  "her  way. 

"  Well,  if  you  will  go,  my  child,"  he  said  at  length, 
"  may  God  protect  and  speed  you  on  your  errand  of 
mercy.  Say  to  the  commandant  that  I  regard  this 
as  a  matter  of  no  common  gravity.  Tell  him  I  will 
restrain  the  savages  as  far  as  may  be,  and  —  may  the 
Fair  White  Mary  be  your  shield." 


CHAPTER  TENTH 

AN   AWKWARD   ENCOUNTER 

A  NGfiLIQUE,  fearing  that  Father  Potier  might 
-^~V  yet  recall  and,  in  concern  for  her  safety,  forbid 
her  to  carry  out  her  resolve,  sped  away  forthwith. 
Indeed,  he  did  cry  out  after  her,  "  Angelique,  Ange- 
lique  !  "  But,  like  the  flight  of  partridges  that,  hav- 
ing alighted  for  a  moment  upon  the  reeds  of  the 
swamp,  presently  floated  over  the  strait  in  a  small 
black  cloud,  her  little  canoe  soon  shot  out  from  the 
land  and  floated  down  the  stream.  She  met  with 
no  obstacle  in  carrying  out  the  first  part  of  her  sim- 
ple programme.  When  she  reached  the  residence  of 
Madame  des  Ruisseaux,  a  Pani  boy  was  at  once  com- 
missioned to  go  for  the  boat,  which  she  had  left  at 
the  north  gate.  Within  doors,  however,  a  disap- 
pointment awaited  her. 

"  Madame  des  Ruisseaux  is  gone  to  pay  a  visit  at 
the  home  of  her  brother,  Monsieur  Jacques  Gode- 
froy,  where  Mademoiselle  de  St.  Ours  has  been  stay- 
ing for  a  few  days ;  they  will  not  be  back  to-night," 
the  slave  woman  Agathe  informed  her.  "  But  a  com- 
fortable supper  will  soon  be  ready  for  mademoiselle. 
The  house  is  lonely  with  only  the  two  Pani  women 
and  the  boy  here,  yet  there  is  madame's  own  room 
ready,  and  it  will  give  us  all  pleasure  to  wait  on 
Mademoiselle  Angelique." 

"  Yes,  I  will  remain  until  to-morrow,"  answered 
the  girl,  as  she  threw  herself  upon  the  settle.  She 


AN   AWKWARD   ENCOUNTER         123 

chatted  amiably  with  Agathe,  while  the  latter  moved 
quietly  about,  busied  with  preparations  for  her  com- 
fort. The  woman  drew  up  near  to  her  a  little  table, 
threw  over  it  a  cloth  of  damask  from  Montreal,  and 
set  thereon  several  precious  pieces  of  blue  china, 
especially  prized  by  her  mistress.  Then  she  disap- 
peared, to  return  ere  long,  bringing  a  dainty  portion 
of  venison,  and  a  platter  of  hot  crapes,  or  pancakes, 
with  bread,  and  a  small  measure  of  strawberry  wine. 

"  Ma  foi,  Agathe,  do  you  think  I  have  the  hun- 
ger of  a  voyageur?"  exclaimed  Angelique,  with  a 
laugh. 

Notwithstanding  the  occasion  she  had  for  disquie- 
tude, she  did  not  decline  the  tempting  fare.  Worried 
and  distraught,  she  had  left  both  breakfast  and  din- 
ner almost  untasted,  and  was  now  come  from  some 
two  hours  of  exercise  upon  the  river.  Despite  her 
assumption  of  gayety,  she  was  glad  when  Agathe 
once  more  withdrew.  The  absence  of  her  aunt  was 
a  contingency  which  Angelique  had  not  considered. 
To  send  for  Major  Gladwin  to  come  and  spend  the 
evening  here  was  now  out  of  the  question.  Yet,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  the 
momentous  information  she  brought  should  be  com- 
municated to  him  without  delay. 

What  was  to  be  done?  Refreshed  and  strength- 
ened, she  felt  it  impossible  to  remain  longer  inactive 
when  so  important  a  task  lay  before  her.  Should  she 
send  word  to  the  commandant?  Ah,  no,  the  news 
she  had  to  tell  must  not  be  intrusted  to  any  one; 
neither  should  it  be  committed  to  writing,  even  had 
she  been  more  ready  with  her  pen.  She  might  go 
to  visit  a  neighbor,  and  then  send  a  message  to  Glad- 
win  that  she  wished  him  to  come  and  see  her?  This, 
however,  would  furnish  food  for  endless  gossip. 


i24     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

She  could  have  given  the  intelligence  to  the  major 
at  the  house  of  Madame  des  Ruisseaux  with  com- 
paratively small  risk  of  her  own  safety.  But,  as  mat- 
ters stood,  should  she  proceed,  would  not  the  danger 
of  discovery  be  greatly  increased?  Who  might  she 
not  meet,  what  obstacles  might  arise  in  her  path? 
For  some  time  she  considered  her  dilemma,  and  at 
last  started  to  her  feet,  exclaiming, — 

"  It  is  a  chance,  at  least ;  yes,  I  will  do  it." 

Crossing  the  room,  she  stepped  into  the  passage, 
and,  opening  a  door  that  led  to  an  outer  kitchen, 
called  to  the  Pani. 

"  Agathe,  I  am  going  but  a  short  distance  up  the 
street.  Mayhap  Mademoiselle  de  Mersac  can  tell 
me  when  the  next  assembly  dance  is  to  be  held.  I 
will  be  back  betimes." 

Then,  catching  up  a  wrap  that  lay  upon  the  settle, 
she  slipped  out  of  the  house. 

The  commandant  of  the  fort  was  wont  frequently 
to  avail  himself  of  the  business  knowledge  of  the 
merchant  James  Sterling  in  his  dealings  with  the 
people  of  the  town.  Thus  it  happened  that  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  6th  of  May,  Gladwin  had  sent 
for  the  clever  Scot,  and,  for  an  hour  or  more,  in  the 
principal  room  of  the  British  headquarters,  the  two 
men  had  been  engaged  in  going  over  certain  papers 
which  had  to  do  with  the  affairs  of  the  post.  At 
length  the  commandant  took  up  a  long  bill,  written 
upon  the  coarse  paper  in  use  among  the  merchants 
of  Le  Detroit. 

"  Here  is  the  account  of  Monsieur  Baby  across 
the  river,  who  has  been  supplying  the  garrison  with 
hogs,  corn,  and  eau-de-vie,"  he  said.  "  I  find  the 
items  correct  and  the  prices  high,  yet  not,  perhaps, 


AN   AWKWARD   ENCOUNTER        125 

exorbitant.  What  manner  of  man  is  this  wealthy 
habitant?  I  hear  he  is  on  terms  of  close  acquaintance 
with  the  Indians." 

"That  may  be,"  answered  Sterling;  "nevertheless, 
he  has  suffered  through  this  comradeship.  The 
young  Hurons  stole  hogs  from  his  farm,  until  finally 
he  complained  to  Pontiac,  who  therewith  lay  in  wait 
for  the  thieves.  He  had  no  weary  vigil;  soon  the 
plunderers  came  creeping  through  the  gloom,  and 
vastly  astonished  they  were  to  be  confronted  by  the 
Great  Chief.  '  Go  back  to  your  village,  you  Wyan- 
dotte  dogs/  he  said  sternly,  '  if  you  tread  again  upon 
this  man's  land  you  shall  die.'  They  slunk  away, 
and  from  that  time  the  Canadian's  property  has  been 
safe.  The  circumstance  is  all  the  more  remarkable 
because  the  Ottawa  had  no  authority  over  these 
Hurons ;  it  was  his  powerful  spirit  that  commanded 
their  respect  and  obedience." 

"And  Baby?"  persisted  the  major. 

"Baby  is,  I  am  persuaded,  a  man  to  be  trusted. 
He  is  incapable  of  betraying  a  friend,  be  that  friend 
British,  French,  or  savage." 

When  the  clerical  work  was  finished,  Sterling 
thought  the  major  singularly  loath  to  detain  him. 

As  he  rose  to  go,  the  soldier  O'Desmond,  who 
guarded  the  doorway,  entered  the  room. 

"  An  Injun  maid  is  without.  She  asks  the  favor  of 
a  few  minutes'  speech  with  you,  sir,"  he  announced, 
after  saluting  his  commandant  with  military  pre- 
cision. 

The  message  was  evidently  at  the  moment  most 
unwelcome. 

"  Who  is  the  girl?"  inquired  Gladwin  curtly. 

"  I  did  not  see  her  face,  sir,  but  from  the  litheness 
of  her  form,  I  judge  she  may  be  the  maiden  whom  I 


126     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

have  heard  called  Catherine.  She  spoke  very  low; 
belike  she  has  some  gew-gaw  to  sell." 

"Ah,  yes!"  said  the  major,  "the  Ojibwa  came 
here  not  long  since  bringing  beautifully  embroidered 
moccasins.  I  bought  them  of  her,  and  agreed  to 
take  another  pair.  No  doubt  she  has  brought  them 
now." 

He  stood  beside  the  writing  table,  waiting  for  the 
merchant  to  take  his  departure. 

The  latter  smiled  grimly.  He  saw,  or  fancied  he 
saw,  that  Gladwin  thought  he  suspected  a  romance, 
and  that  the  notion  galled  the  major's  haughty  spirit. 
Captain  Campbell  might  have  lost  his  heart  to  an 
Indian  girl,  but  Gladwin  winced  at  the  idea  of  being 
thought  capable  of  such  folly.  Sterling  enjoyed  the 
situation.  It  was  an  excellent  jest  against  the  major, 
whom  in  truth  he  knew  to  be  of  too  austere  and 
proud  a  nature  to  be  readily  smitten  with  the  charms 
of  a  daughter  of  the  forest.  Shortly  before,  he  had 
been  interrupted  by  the  report  of  the  sunset  gun,  and 
by  a  custom  dating  from  the  time  of  Monsieur  de  Ca- 
dillac, no  redskin  was  permitted  to  remain  in  the  town 
after  sundown.  Few  of  the  warriors  were  admitted 
now  at  all.  Might  not  the  Indians,  finding  themselves 
thus  excluded,  have  commissioned  this  squaw  to  exe- 
cute their  work  for  them?  Perhaps  they  had  even 
instructed  her  to  open  the  gates,  as  they  had  bidden 
the  false  Ishkodah  to  do,  in  the  days  of  the  Chevalier 
de  la  Mothe !  Moreover,  surely  he,  Sterling,  had 
heard  somewhere  that  the  Ojibwa  Catherine  loved 
but  was  scorned  by  Gladwin?  Was  it  not  possible 
that  she  had  been  sent,  or  had  come  of  her  own  ac- 
cord, to  assassinate  him?  The  aborigines  were  never 
known  to  forgive  a  slight,  but  cherished  ever  after  an 
implacable  resentment.  Gladwin  had  angered  Ster- 


AN   AWKWARD   ENCOUNTER        127 

ling,  yet  the  latter  was  of  too  generous  and  noble  a 
disposition  to  harbor  petty  malice  when  thoughts  of 
such  weighty  moment  crowded  upon  him.  He  could 
not  withhold  his  respect  from  the  dignified  young 
officer,  and  he  admired  the  very  boldness  that  ren- 
dered Gladwin  so  careless  of  the  dangers  which  daily 
menaced  him. 

It  was  with  these  reflections  that  Sterling  strode 
from  the  room.  As  he  passed  through  the  hallway 
he  discerned  standing  in  the  shadow  the  forest  maiden, 
who  was  waiting  to  be  admitted  to  the  presence  of 
the  commandant. 

She  was  enveloped  from  head  to  feet  in  an  Indian 
blanket,  so  that  her  face  was  entirely  hidden.  Never- 
theless, as  he  approached,  it  seemed  to  him  that  she 
started  slightly,  repressing  an  exclamation  so  low 
that  he  wondered  if  he  had  imagined  it  also.  The 
suspicion  of  treachery  made  him  watchful.  He  was 
about  to  pass  on,  but,  at  second  thought,  hesitated. 

And  now,  most  certainly,  the  girl  pressed  back 
against  the  wall,  as  though  she  would  fain  shrink 
away  out  of  his  sight.  The  circumstance  was  sin- 
gular. If  she  had  come  simply  to  sell  a  pair  of  moc- 
casins, why  should  she  fear  this  chance  encounter 
with  a  stranger?  True,  if  she  loved  Gladwin,  as  it 
was  said,  perhaps  she  felt  a  certain  shyness  at  being 
met,  bringing  to  him  her  handiwork,  no  doubt  with 
the  hope  of  winning  a  smile  or  expression  of  com- 
mendation from  him.  The  Indian  girls  were  coy 
as  the  deer  of  the  wood,  and  a  word  in  praise  of 
their  embroidery  made  them  happy  as  children. 

But  was  this  the  reason  of  Catherine's  evident  wish 
to  avoid  him?  Was  it  not  more  likely  that  she  had 
a  weapon  concealed  beneath  the  folds  of  the  blanket 
that  so  completely  enshrouded  her? 


128     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"Did  you  not  hear  the  sunset  gun?  How  is  it 
that  you,  an  Indian  girl,  are  still  within  the  stock- 
ade?" he  demanded,  stopping  short,  and  addressing 
her  in  the  patois  of  the  strait,  while  there  flashed 
through  his  mind  the  recollection  of  the  tradition 
that  the  secretary  of  the  Sieur  Cadillac  once  put  the 
same  question  to  the  maiden  Ishkodah. 

The  girl  raised  her  head  disdainfully,  as  if  to  say 
he  had  no  right  to  interrogate  her.  Instead  of  reply- 
ing, however,  she  attempted  to  slip  by  him,  and  gain 
the  door  of  the  council  room. 

Sterling  was  too  alert  for  her. 

"  You  think  to  appeal  to  Major  Gladwin  ?  You 
must  understand  that  I  have  something  to  say  in 
this  matter.  I  have  been  appointed  a  civil  func- 
tionary of  the  town,  and  it  is  my  duty  to  see  that 
its  laws  are  enforced,"  he  said  sternly,  determined 
that  she  should  not  pass  unless  she  could  prove  to 
him  that  she  was  not  an  emissary  of  her  disaffected 
people. 

"Let  me  see  your  face,  that  I  may  judge  whether 
it  is  the  face  of  a  friend  to  the  English,"  he  persisted. 

Still  the  girl  kept  her  visage  muffled  in  the  blanket 
cloak,  even  her  hands  being  hidden  in  its  folds. 

Sterling  was  usually  courteous  to  all  women,  but 
the  obstinacy  of  the  Indian  made  him  now  more  de- 
termined to  compel  her  obedience.  For  a  moment 
they  tacitly  challenged  each  other,  she  apparently 
dogged  and  sullen,  he  cool  and  relentless. 

"  I  must  know  who  you  are,  or  I  shall  have  you 
thrust  out  beyond  the  gate  of  the  palisade,"  he 
continued,  beginning  to  believe  this  was  not  Cath- 
erine after  all,  but  some  savage  youth,  a  lover  of 
the  maiden,  perhaps,  come  to  take  revenge  upon  the 
white  chief  for  having  unwittingly  stolen  her  heart. 


AN   AWKWARD   ENCOUNTER        129 

"  Even  Major  Gladwin  himself  cannot  set  aside  the 
law  of  the  town." 

At  another  time,  the  merchant  would  have  pitied 
the  girl,  if,  after  all,  this  was  a  girl,  and  the  distress 
evinced  by  the  blanketed  figure  was  truly  most 
womanly.  In  this  encounter  one  thought  possessed 
him ;  she  represented  some  Indian  plot,  since  she 
would  not  reveal  her  identity. 

"  I  regret  that  I  shall  be  compelled  to  summon  the 
guard  who  is  detained  within,  or  else  to  use  force," 
he  proceeded,  stretching  forth  his  hand. 

It  grasped  the  air,  however,  for  the  girl  sprang 
aside.  Then,  like  some  gentle  forest  creature  goaded 
beyond  endurance,  she  turned,  flung  back  the  cloak 
with  an  imperious  gesture,  and  stood  before  him,  dig- 
nified, defiant,  and  silently  reproachful.  Sterling  re- 
coiled in  amazement,  and  a  pang  of  remorse  shot 
through  his  breast.  For  there  confronted  him,  not 
the  dusky  features  of  an  Indian,  but  a  beautiful 
Caucasian  face,  now  strangely  pale,  a  pair  of  flashing 
black  eyes,  a  shapely  head  framed  by  a  mass  of  dark 
curls,  a  throat  graceful  as  the  wild  swan's,  and  a 
slight  sylph-like  form ;  the  face  and  form  of  Ange- 
lique  Cuillerier,  the  girl  whom  he  had  wooed  for 
his  wife,  and  whom  he  still  loved  with  all  his  heart. 

"  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier !  "  he  cried,  aghast. 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,  Monsieur  Sterling,"  she  replied,  while 
her  eyes  blazed  with  anger.  "  Now  go  and  noise 
abroad  the  story  of  my  coming  here  in  the  guise  of 
an  Indian  maiden  if  you  will.  I  had  something  to 
say  to  Major  Gladwin,  that  is  why  I  came." 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  with  a  frigid  obeisance, 
"  you  may  rely  upon  my  discretion.  Nevertheless, 
I  must  say  it  was  an  odd  whim  of  yours  to  choose 
this  masquerade." 

9 


I3o     THE   HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

At  his  words  her  spirit  died  away  as  swiftly  as  it  had 
arisen,  and  she  answered  with  a  tremor  in  her  voice,  — 

"  Yes ;  doubtless  you  do  not  comprehend  that,  not- 
withstanding the  liberty  enjoyed  by  the  young  Cana- 
dienne  in  many  respects,  in  others  she  is  trammelled 
by  various  little  French  conventions.  She  is  free  to 
go  canoeing  on  the  river  with  any  cavalier  of  whom 
her  parents  approve,  but  for  her  to  come  unattended 
to  the  council  house,  even  though  there  still  remains 
half  an  hour  of  daylight,  would  be  regarded  by  all 
her  relatives  and  friends  as  an  act  of  forwardness  un- 
becoming a  well-bred  demoiselle." 

Much  as  she  shrank  from  the  comments  of  the 
French  counterpart  of  Mrs.  Grundy,  there  was  no  real 
impropriety  in  the  girl's  stopping  for  a  moment  at  the 
British  headquarters. 

"  But,  zounds,  what  had  Angelique  to  say  to  Glad- 
win?  "  Sterling  asked  mentally,  with  the  readiness  of  a 
jealous  lover.  Was  the  commandant  the  suitor  upon 
whom  she  looked  with  most  favor?  Or  was  this  but 
some  impulse  of  coquetry  prompted  by  the  vanity 
and  love  of  admiration  which  had  caused  her  to 
quarrel  with  himself  at  the  ball  given  to  Sir  William 
Johnson?  A  flaw  in  her  character  as  he  read  it, 
which  had  led  him  to  struggle  against  his  love  for 
her,  and  made  him  hesitate  to  ask  her  again  to  be 
his  wife.  Her  heart  was  pure  as  a  forest  spring,  he 
would  take  his  oath  on  it,  but  he  could  not  now 
refrain  from  contrasting  her  with  the  Scottish  and 
English  maidens  beyond  the  seas.  Had  one  of  these 
maids  something  to  say  to  her  lover,  she  would  wait 
at  home  for  him.  He  forgot  how  the  primness  of 
these  damsels  sometimes  had  vexed  him ;  these  gar- 
den flowers  now  seemed  to  him  sweeter  than  the 
eglantine  of  the  prairie.  And  yet,  how  charming 


AN   AWKWARD   ENCOUNTER        131 

Angelique  was  !  Confound  Gladwin ;  if  he  could  only 
challenge  and  fight  him.  The  Scot  began  to  think 
that  in  love  as  in  hunting  a  man  begins  where  he 
likes  and  leaves  off  when  he  can. 

"  I  wish  I  could  tell  you  about  it,  monsieur,"  the 
girl  said  artlessly,  "  but  it  is  a  secret." 

"  Mademoiselle,  it  is  unnecessary  for  you  to  tell 
me  anything,"  he  answered,  stepping  back,  that  she 
might  pass. 

Still  she  hesitated,  glancing  timidly  up  at  him. 
His  features  were  absolutely  rigid,  however,  and  turn- 
ing away  with  head  erect,  she  again  gathered  the 
Indian  blanket  about  her,  and  concealed  her  face 
within  its  folds. 

Scarcely  had  she  done  so  when  O'Desmond 
returned. 

"  The  major  is  afther  givin'  orders  that  he  will  see 
you,"  he  said. 

A  moment  later  Angelique  found  herself  in  the 
former  council  chamber  of  the  French  commandant, 
now  the  office  and  audience  room  of  the  British. 
The  rencontre  with  Sterling  had  strangely  unnerved 
her,  and  now  with  quickening  heart-throbs  she 
glanced  about  the  walls  once  so  familiar.  She  had 
been  here  to  the  commandant's  assemblies  or  levees 
several  times  since  the  ball  given  by  Sir  William 
Johnson  more  than  a  year  ago,  and  yet  it  was  that 
scene  which  now  rose  to  her  recollection.  Then  the 
spacious  apartment  had  been  festively  decorated,  and 
blazed  with  the  radiance  of  many  lamps,  while  never 
had  there  been  gayer  music  at  the  fort.  Now  the 
sides  of  the  room  and  the  rafters  were  blankly  black, 
the  silence  was  so  dreary  that  she  longed  to  cry  out, 
and  the  waning  daylight  was  dim,  except  near  the 
window  where  the  commandant  sat,  writing. 


132     THE   HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

On  that  occasion,  too,  she  had  come  with  a  partic- 
ularly joyous  heart;  here  she  had  achieved  her 
highest  social  triumph  in  having  been  chosen  to 
open  the  ball  with  the  most  distinguished  representa- 
tive that  the  English  had  sent  to  Fort  Pontchartrain. 
Now  she  had  stolen  here  to  bring  a  warning  of  dire 
calamity. 

Ah,  how  many  associations  this  room  had  for  her ! 
As  a  child,  she  had  played  about  its  hearth ;  and 
there,  at  the  same  table  where  the  Englishman  now 
bent  over  his  papers,  she  had  seen  her  uncle,  Mon- 
sieur de  Bellestre,  reading  documents  written  in  the 
stately  language  of  Versailles,  —  documents  that 
sometimes  bore  even  the  seal  of  the  great  King  of 
France. 

If  she  should  go  away,  silent  as  to  the  errand  upon 
which  she  had  come,  a  French  commandant,  per- 
haps her  own  uncle,  might  once  more  preside  in  this 
old  council  chamber;  his  Majesty  King  Louis  might 
again  send  his  royal  mandates  to  Fort  Pontchar- 
train. 

And  if  she  spoke,  if  she  thwarted  the  scheme  to 
which  a  number  of  the  French  settlers,  among  them 
her  own  father,  gave  at  least  a  tacit  assent,  —  if  she 
set  herself  against  all  her  people,  would  she  not  be 
scorned  and  branded  by  them  as  a  traitor  to  the 
cause  that  was  dearest  to  her  heart?  It  might  never 
be  known  whose  voice  betrayed  the  plot  to  drive  the 
English  from  the  fair  provinces  won  from  the  wil- 
derness by  the  explorations  of  Champlain,  Cartier, 
Marquette,  and  others ;  by  the  toil  of  the  missionaries, 
the  wisdom  of  Frontenac,  the  courage  of  many  proud 
chevaliers  from  Old  France.  Yet,  though  it  should 
never  be  discovered  who  gave  the  warning  to  save 
the  alien  officers  and  garrison,  would  not  her  own 


AN   AWKWARD    ENCOUNTER         133 

heart  ever  proclaim  her  false  to  her  country?  There 
was  time  for  her  to  slip  away.  Major  Gladwin  was 
still  unaware  of  her  presence,  and  the  uninter- 
rupted scratching  of  his  pen  showed  that  his  attention 
was  preoccupied. 

Yes,  she  would  go.  Why  should  she,  an  inexpe- 
rienced girl,  oppose  her  pity,  her  fears,  against  the 
opinions,  the  sagacity  of  her  elders?  When  there 
was  a  prospect  that  one  day  the  golden  lilies  of  the 
Bourbons  might  again  wave  over  Le  Detroit,  was  it 
for  a  maiden  of  New  France  to  crush  with  her  weak 
hand  that  grand  opportunity,  to  choose  what  banner 
should  float  over  the  fort  of  the  strait? 

With  these  thoughts  surging  in  her  brain,  Ange- 
lique  retreated  along  the  wall  of  the  room. 


CHAPTER  ELEVENTH 

A   MESSAGE  TO   MAJOR  GLADWIN 

SECURED  by  her  disguise  against  recognition, 
Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  reached  the  door  of  the 
council  hall,  resolved  to  go  away  as  silently  as  she 
had  come  ;  but  when  about  to  cross  the  threshold 
she  paused,  as  though  stayed  by  an  invisible  hand. 
The  tall  form  of  Father  Potier  rose  before  her  mind's 
eye,  as  she  had  seen  him  standing  under  the  bloom- 
ing trees  in  the  orchard  of  the  Huron  Mission. 
Again  she  beheld  him,  erect  as  a  soldier,  his  head 
thrown  back,  his  eyes  kindling  with  ardor,  his  counte- 
nance suffused  with  emotion,  as  she  pictured  the  glo- 
rious white  standard  of  the  Sun  King  floating  once 
more  over  Le  Detroit.  And  then  she  remembered 
how  the  light  of  that  enthusiasm  died  out  of  his 
strong  face,  and  its  expression  changed  to  horror 
and  contempt  for  the  few  traders  who  had  lent  a 
half  assent  to  the  plotting  of  their  Indian  neighbors, 
and  had  deceived  the  latter  with  rumors  of  an  army 
to  come  to  their  aid  from  beyond  the  seas.  And 
how  his  ascetic  visage  shone  with  the  spirit  of  a  hero, 
the  spirit  of  the  old  French  chivalry,  of  one  whose 
shield  was  stainless  as  his  life.  Once  more  his  words 
sounded  in  her  ears,  like  the  notes  of  a  trumpet, 
voicing  the  general  sentiment  of  the  Canadians,  in 
opposition  to  any  ignoble  plotters  there  might  be  in 
the  land. 

"  Our  people  love  the  fleur-de-lis,  they  love  their 
country;    but   more   than  the  banner  of  St.  Louis, 


A   MESSAGE   TO    MAJOR  GLADWIN     135 

more  even  than  their  freedom,  they  love  their  own 
faith  and  honor,  and  the  faith  and  honor  of  New 
France." 

Did  the  fragrance  of  apple  blossoms,  borne  in  by 
the  breeze  through  the  open  window,  conjure  up  the 
illusion  that  she  was  again  in  the  quiet  orchard  ?  Was 
it  the  prayer  of  the  missionary,  breathed  for  her  in 
the  chapel  across  the  river,  that  strengthened  the 
wavering  French  girl,  and  determined  her  to  carry 
out  the  project  which  had  brought  her  here?  She 
must  not  falter.  Father  Potier  had  bidden  her  to 
speak ;  and  had  she  not  given  him  her  word  to  do 
so,  he  himself  would  have  sent  another  messenger. 
Should  she  fail  him  now,  it  would  be  too  late  for  him 
to  warn  Major  Gladwin.  To-morrow  was  the  fateful 
day  named  for  striking  the  fatal  blow  at  the  English. 
She  must  speak  at  once,  for  the  honor  of  New  France 
was  in  her  keeping. 

Stepping  out  from  among  the  shadows  into  the 
space  near  the  middle  of  the  floor  where  the  light 
fell,  Angelique  coughed  softly. 

The  commandant  looked  up  abstractedly  from  his 
writing,  and  as  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  slight  figure 
enveloped  in  the  Indian  blanket,  he  frowned  with 
impatience. 

"  This  Ojibwa  girl  is  beautiful,  with  the  mysterious 
beauty  of  the  forest ;  her  voice  is  sweet  as  the  song  of 
the  ortolan,  her  manner  fierce  and  innocently  amor- 
ous, like  a  fire  that  warms  yet  can  also  destroy,"  he 
reflected  irritably.  "  But  the  music  of  that  sweet 
voice  fails  to  awaken  so  much  as  a  passing  thrill 
within  my  breast ;  I  turn  from  that  glowing  fire.  Ah, 
J  am  put  to  more  pains  to  banish  from  my  mind  one 
piquant,  radiant  face  !  Still  the  little  French-Cana- 
dian girl  fascinates  me  by  her  loveliness  and  her 


136     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

native  charm,  struggle  against  their  power  as  I  may. 
It  is  folly,  aye,  worse  than  folly,  therefore  I  WILL  not 
to  love  her.  But  why  does  this  Indian  maiden  pester 
me  with  her  abject  devotion?  " 

Nevertheless,  to  be  the  object  of  an  ardent,  though 
hopeless,  feminine  passion  is  seldom  altogether  un- 
pleasing  to  a  man,  especially  if  he  has  suffered  from 
the  apparent  coldness  of  the  woman  who  has  rejected 
his  addresses.  The  knowledge  that  the  forest  maiden 
well-nigh  worshipped  the  ground  he  trod  upon  ren- 
dered the  accents  of  the  young  commandant  unusu- 
ally gentle,  as  he  said  in  his  halting  French,  — 

"  Well,  Catherine,  where  are  the  moccasins  I  com- 
missioned you  to  make  for  me?  I  presume  you  have 
brought  them,  since  you  are  returned  so  soon." 

There  was  a  chiding  in  his  tone  that  would  have 
cut  the  proud  Indian,  to  the  heart,  had  the  words 
been,  indeed,  as  he  supposed,  addressed  to  her. 

Angelique  was  for  the  nonce  disconcerted.  She 
had  forgotten  Catherine  and  the  moccasins,  and  had 
not  meant  to  personate  her.  It  was  no  uncommon 
circumstance  for  a  squaw  to  go  from  house  to  house, 
selling  bead-work  or  maple  sugar,  and  she  had 
adopted  the  Indian  disguise  because  it  was  the  first 
at  hand.  Realizing  that  she  must  presently  make 
herself  known,  she  drew  nearer  to  the  window,  but 
did  not  speak. 

"Have  you  not  brought  the  moccasins?"  he  de- 
manded more  curtly. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  so  softly  that  he  did  not  dis- 
tinguish her  voice. 

"And  why  not?  "  he  continued  inconsequently,  as, 
picking  up  the  little  sand-box  from  the  table,  he 
shook  the  fine  sand  over  the  letter  he  had  been  writ- 
ing, in  order  to  dry  the  ink. 


A   MESSAGE   TO    MAJOR   GLADWIN     137 

"  I  had  no  suitable  skin  whereof  to  make  them," 
rejoined  Angelique,  with  perfect  truth,  still  speak- 
ing in  a  muffled  manner  through  the  folds  of  the 
blanket. 

"No?  Why,  I  have  a  skin  somewhere  about," 
he  began,  rising  from  his  chair  and  searching  among 
the  squirrel  bullet-pouches  and  similar  articles  upon 
the  wall.  "  Here  is  a  piece  of  buckskin  that  will 
serve  excellently  well,  will  it  not?" 

He  tossed  it  to  her  across  the  board,  hoping  she 
would  now  be  gone.  Instead  of  taking  up  the  skin, 
however,  the  girl  remained  motionless. 

"  It  would  be  useless  for  me  to  make  the  mocca- 
sins for  the  white  chief.  I  should  not  be  able  to 
deliver  them  to  him  in  the  spirit  land,"  she  said,  bow- 
ing low,  and  for  a  second  throwing  back  the  blanket 
a  few  inches,  as  is  the  Indian  form  of  salutation. 

The  mysterious  words,  the  voice,  unrecognized  yet 
not  unfamiliar,  produced  a  change  in  the  manner  of 
Gladwin. 

"  Woman,  you  are  not  the  Ojibwa,  Catherine ! 
Yet,  who  then  are  you  ?"  he  exclaimed,  coming 
around  the  table  and  darting  forward,  as  though  to 
seize  her  by  the  wrists. 

But,  lightly  as  a  fawn,  Angelique  sprang  away  from 
him,  and  at  the  same  moment  suffered  her  blanket 
cloak  to  fall  to  the  ground. 

"  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  !  "  cried  the  commandant, 
stepping  back  half  a  dozen  paces  and  coloring  to  the 
roots  of  his  hair  in  astonishment.  His  admiring  glance 
noted  every  detail  of  her  appearance :  the  trimly  short 
jupe  of  bright  blue  ;  the  small  feet,  encased  in  mocca- 
sins, like  those  of  the  Indian  girl  he  had  thought  her; 
the  white  bodice  and  red  kerchief;  the  dark  curls  that 
lay  caressingly  against  her  pretty  neck  and  divided 


138     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

in  little  ringlets  about  her  brow ;  the  expressive  eyes, 
now  strangely  serious. 

Why  had  she  come  ?  More  than  a  year  before  he 
had  asked  her  to  marry  him,  and  she  had  answered 
him  nay.  Now,  if  there  were  no  other  gulf  between 
them,  would  not  his  invincible  pride,  his  self-concen- 
tration and  reserve  be  enough  to  dissuade  him  from 
again  laying  his  heart  at  her  feet?  Was  he  a  man  to 
risk  having  his  suit  twice  rejected?  If  there  were 
only  the  differences  of  faith,  of  nationality,  of  early 
prejudices,  surely  these  would  be  enough  to  make  a 
man  hesitate  to  sue  again.  But  above  and  beyond  all 
this  there  was  a  sweet  English  girl  across  the  seas. 
He  and  the  latter  had  been  betrothed  by  the  parents 
of  each  in  their  childhood.  For  years  he  had  thought 
little  of  the  engagement  made  for  a  boy  by  others. 
Yet  this  girl,  grown  a  woman,  had  waited  for  him,  and 
now,  since  his  recent  visit  to  England,  was  he  not  bound 
to  her  by  every  consideration  of  honor?  Angelique 
did  not  know  of  this,  however,  and — what  if  she  had 
discovered  that  she  loved  him  after  all,  and  had  chosen 
this  madcap  fashion  of  giving  him  a  proof  of  her  con- 
fidence and  liking? 

Gladwin's  brain  seemed  to  reel.  If  those  who 
thought  him  cold  and  unfeeling  could  have  looked 
into  his  heart  at  the  moment,  how  astounded  they 
would  have  been  to  witness  the  emotions  raging  there. 
But  he  controlled  the  storm  by  a  great  effort,  and 
Angelique  only  noted  that  his  glance  was  gentler 
than  it  had  been  of  late,  and  his  tone  even  more 
respectful  than  usual,  as  he  said,  — 

"  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier,  I  know  not  to  what 
good  fortune  I  owe  the  honor  of  this  visit;  yet  do 
not,  I  beseech  you,  presently  fade  away  as  a  vision. 
Be  assured  I  appreciate  the  bit  of  pleasantry  that  led 


A   MESSAGE   TO    MAJOR   GLADWIN     139 

you  to  assume  this  Indian  disguise,  and  to  favor  the 
old  council  house  by  stopping  at  its  door  a  moment 
upon  your  way  from  the  river.  Will  you  accord  me 
the  privilege  of  escorting  you  to  the  house  of  Madame 
des  Ruisseaux,  whither,  I  dare  say,  you  are  bent?" 

Angelique  flushed  red  as  a  rose  of  the  prairie. 
"  Ma  foi,  monsieur,  you  must  not  imagine  I  would  do 
aught  so  unbecoming  as  to  be,  by  design,  the  herald 
of  my  own  arrival  at  the  stockade,  or  that  I  find  it 
necessary  to  drum  up  my  cavaliers  after  so  undignified 
a  fashion,"  she  answered,  with  a  proud  toss  of  the 
head.  "  No ;  I  am  here  because,  having  something 
of  great  moment  to  communicate  to  you,  I  had  no 
time  to  reflect  that  my  coming  might  be  construed 
as  unmaidenly." 

She  faltered,  remembering  with  a  sense  of  disquie- 
tude the  stern  inquiry  in  the  eyes  of  Sterling,  which, 
coupled  with  the  amazement  of  Gladwin,  was  most 
embarrassing. 

"  Mademoiselle,  it  would  be  impossible  for  you  to 
do  aught  unmaidenly,  and  I  know  you  have  come  in 
kindness,"  responded  the  commandant,  with  grave  def- 
erence, as  he  drew  out  from  before  the  table  one  of 
the  high-backed  chairs  of  the  old  councillors  and 
begged  her  to  be  seated. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said,  "  I  must  give  you  my  tidings,  and 
return  in  all  haste  to  the  house  of  my  aunt.  Madame 
des  Ruisseaux  is  absent,  hence  I  could  not  send  to  ask 
you  to  come  there,  without  giving  to  some  one  a  clue 
to  what  had  best  be  kept  secret.  Know  then,  Major 
Gladwin,  to-morrow  the  great  Ottawa  chief  Pontiac 
will  come  to  the  fort  with  sixty  of  his  warriors.  Each 
will  be  armed  with  a  gun  cut  short,  and  hidden  tinder 
his  blanket.  Pontiac  will  demand  to  hold  a  council 
with  you  and  your  officers,  and  this  request  being 


140     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

granted,  at  the  council  he  will  offer  you  a  peace  belt 
of  wampum.  But  beware,  for,  if  all  goes  well  from 
his  point  of  view,  but  most  ill  for  you,  he  will  present 
the  belt  in  a  reversed  position.  This  will  be  the  sig- 
nal for  an  attack.  The  warriors  will,  at  the  instant, 
spring  up  and  fire  upon  you  and  the  other  officers,  and 
without,  in  the  street  of  Ste.  Anne  and  in  all  the  streets, 
the  Indians  will  fall  upon  the  garrison.  Every  Eng- 
lishman in  the  town  will  be  killed,  but  not  a  French- 
man will  lose  his  scalp." 

Gladwin  started.  At  last  he  was  aroused  to  the 
danger  that  threatened  the  British  at  this  fort  of  the 
strait,  —  a  danger  he  must  avert,  or  it  would  not  only 
be  fatal  to  him,  but  would  cover  his  name  with  dis- 
honor for  his  rashness  in  not  having  been  more  upon 
his  guard  against  it. 

The  warnings  he  had  hitherto  received  were  only 
rumors  and  suspicions,  but  this  news  brought  by 
Cuillerier's  daughter  was  something  palpable.  It 
gave  the  time  and  the  details  of  a  definite  plot ;  a  plan 
to  wipe  out  the  post  as  a  British  possession,  to  slay, 
and  no  doubt  with  atrocious  cruelty,  every  man  of 
English  blood  at  Le  Detroit. 

Of  his  personal  peril,  Gladwin  took  not  a  second 
thought.  He  was  a  British  soldier,  ever  ready  to 
fight  or  to  die  in  the  service  of  his  country.  But  his 
responsibility  for  his  command,  for  the  royal  standard 
which  symbolized  the  authority  of  England  in  this  new 
province,  her  supremacy  in  the  Northwest,  —  all  these 
had  been  committed  to  his  keeping  as  an  officer  in 
the  service  of  King  George,  and  by  his  imprudent 
boldness  he  had  jeopardized  them.  It  was  with  con- 
flicting emotions  that  he  glanced  toward  the  girl  who 
had  brought  him  the  tidings,  in  defiance  of  the  malice 
of  the  town  scandal-mongers  should  they  chance  to 


A   MESSAGE    TO    MAJOR    GLADWIN     141 

get  report  of  this  apparently  hoidenish  escapade;  the 
girl  who  had  saved  him  from  the  consequences  of  his 
own  folly,  since  "  he  who  is  forewarned  is  also  fore- 
armed." 

"  Mademoiselle,  it  is  idle  to  attempt  to  thank  you 
for  bringing  me  this  intelligence,"  he  said,  with 
deep  earnestness.  "  May  I  ask  how  such  important 
information  came  to  your  knowledge?" 

"  No,"  cried  Angelique,  putting  a  hand  before 
her  eyes,  as  though  to  shut  out  a  sight  that  seemed 
ever  before  them.  The  scene  between  Pontiac  and 
her  father  in  the  Cuillerier  hearthroom,  while  she 
crouched  in  the  loft  above,  afraid  to  make  the  least 
motion  lest  the  next  moment  might  be  her  last ;  in 
which  case  all  hope  of  saving  the  strangers  whom 
she  pitied  would  die  with  her. 

"  No,  no,"  she  reiterated,  "  I  cannot  reveal  how  or 
where  I  learned  these  things,  but  they  are  true  beyond 
the  possibility  of  doubt.  Moreover,  the  plot  is  no  ordi- 
nary one  against  this  isolated  garrison  of  the  strait. 
All  the  English  posts  from  Du  Quesne  to  the  north 
are  menaced,  —  Venango,  Presque  Isle,  Sandusky, 
St.  Joseph,  Michilimackinac,  and  Green  Bay.  The 
attacks  are  to  be  made  when  each  of  the  forts  is  too 
busied  in  its  own  defence  to  render  assistance  to  any 
others,  and  while  their  commandants  are  off  guard, 
fancying  themselves  secure." 

As  the  girl  spoke,  fervidly,  excitedly,  even  Glad- 
win,  brave  as  he  was.  felt  for  the  minute  appalled, 
as  the  magnitude  of  the  savage  scheme  with  its 
probable  train  of  horrors  arose  before  his  mental 
vision. 

But  the  bent  of  his  mind  was  eminently  practical, 
and  had  been  rendered  more  so  by  his  military  train- 
ing and  experience.  Might  not  Mademoiselle  Ange- 


142     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

lique,  with  the  ardent  imagination  of  a  young  maid, 
have  unconsciously  colored  her  report,  weighty  as  it 
undoubtedly  was  ? 

"  A  great  conspiracy,"  he  said,  with  a  shake  of  the 
head.  "  I  scarce  comprehend  that  it  can  amount  to  so 
much;  the  aborigines  have  never  had  a  leader  who 
could  plan  an  extensive  campaign." 

Angelique  recoiled  haughtily.  Was  it  because 
she  was  only  a  girl  that  the  commandant  now  ap- 
peared to  treat  her  news  lightly?  She  turned  away. 
If  this  self-confident  officer  would  not  credit  her 
story,  let  the  English  look  to  their  own  preservation. 
Out  of  the  pity  of  her  woman's  heart,  with  a  woman's 
horror  of  war  and  bloodshed,  she  had  spoken.  If 
they  would  not  believe  her,  why  should  she  not  leave 
them  to  their  fancied  security?  Once  more  she  took 
a  few  steps  toward  the  door.  But  again  an  invisible 
hand  seemed  to  restrain  her,  and  the  message  of  the 
missionary  flashed  upon  her  recollection.  Angelique 
turned  and  faced  the  Englishman. 

"  Regard  the  matter  as  you  will,  monsieur,"  she 
said,  with  hauteur ;  "  nevertheless,  you  seem  unaware 
of  the  resources,  and  the  great  power  of  the  Ottawa's 
chief,  Pontiac.  You  will  soon  discover  that  not  only 
his  nation,  but  the  Pottawattomies,  the  Miamies, 
Shawnies,  Ottagamies,  Winnebagoes,  Massagagas, 
even  the  distant  Senecas,  are  in  league  against  your 
people.  I  will  only  add  that  I  have  disclosed  this 
matter  to  no  one  but  Father  Potier.  He  would  have 
come  himself  to  warn  you,  but  I  implored  him,  for 
the  sake  of  the  many  lives  at  stake,  not  to  do  so. 
The  missionary  bade  me  tell  you  the  plot  is  one  of 
no  common  gravity ;  but  he  will  restrain  the  Indians 
in  so  far  as  is  possible." 

"  Father  Potier  sent  me  this  message  ? "  ejaculated 


A   MESSAGE   TO    MAJOR   GLADWIN    143 

Gladwin.  "  Ah,  then,  indeed  the  situation  must  be 
serious !  " 

The  officer  knew  the  priest's  judgment  to  be  cool 
and  calm,  and  that  no  one  understood  the  nature  of 
the  aborigines  as  did  he. 

All  at  once,  too,  there  came  to  Gladwin  a  fuller 
comprehension  of  Angelique's  heroism  in  hastening 
to  warn  him  of  this  tremendous  conspiracy.  From 
whatever  source  her  information  had  been  obtained, 
it  was  detailed.  Thanks  to  her  courage,  the  plan 
might  now  be  frustrated.  She  had  come  so  quietly 
that  it  might  never  become  known  who  had  thwarted 
it;  but,  should  the  secret  be  discovered,  could  even 
the  authority  of  the  Black  Robe  save  her  from  the 
persecution  of  the  French  conspirators,  the  cruel 
vengeance  of  Pontiac  and  his  savage  warriors?  That 
she  had  done  this  act  knowing  her  peril  he  felt  sure, 
moreover,  as  he  glanced  at  her  again,  for  her  face, 
which  he  had  ever  seen  dimpling  and  care-free,  now 
wore  a  look  of  quiet  resolution,  and  her  usually  smil- 
ing lips  were  grave  and  firm. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  bowing  low  before  her, 
"  forgive  me  if  for  a  moment  I  failed  to  follow  the 
full  significance  of  the  momentous  news  you  have 
brought  me.  You  have  saved  the  lives  of  the  Eng- 
lish at  Le  Detroit,  and  of  many  others,  I  doubt  not, 
since  I  shall  do  my  utmost  to  send  aid,  or  at  least  a 
warning,  to  the  nearest  British  forts.  In  the  cause  of 
humanity  you  have  put  your  own  life  in  jeopardy,  to 
insure  the  safety  of  your  enemies,  who  yet  can  never 
know  the  name  of  their  preserver;  since,  were  it  ever 
revealed,  your  life  would  be  sacrificed.  A  heroine, 
you  yet  can  never  reap  your  due  reward  in  the 
admiration,  gratitude,  and  love  which  are  the  recom- 
pense of  those  who  do  generous  deeds." 


144     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  No  such  return  is  necessary.  I  am  no  heroine," 
protested  Angelique,  with  assumed  carelessness.  "  Do 
you  think,  Monsieur  Gladwin,  that  I  could  ever  again 
sleep  peacefully  had  I  remained  dumb  and  suffered 
this  massacre  of  the  English  here  at  the  fort  to  take 
place?  Do  you  think  I  could  remain  sane  in  face  of 
atrocities  that  I  might  have  prevented  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  are  the  bravest  woman  I  have 
ever  known,"  rejoined  the  commandant;  "and  I  swear 
to  you  by  the  Almighty  and  All-merciful  One,  that 
never  will  I  utter  or  in  any  way  mention  your  name 
as  connected  with  the  revelation  you  have  made  to 
me  -this  evening.  Never  will  I  confide  to  any  one 
the  name  of  the  friend  who,  in  this  darkest  hour,  has 
stretched  forth  a  hand  to  succor  the  strangers  at  the 
strait.  But,  for  myself,  I  bless  God  that  it  was  the 
hand  of  Angelique  Cuillerier." 

As  a  soldier  to  his  sovereign,  as  a  brave  man  to 
the  savior  of  his  people,  Gladwin  bent  a  knee  before 
the  French  girl,  and  raised  her  brown  fingers  to  his 
lips. 

But  Angelique  had  no  liking  for  heroics,  and  his 
fervor  embarrassed  her.  With  a  return  of  her  saucy 
spirit,  she  withdrew  her  hand  from  his  clasp,  caught 
up  the  blanket  cloak  that  had  formed  her  disguise, 
folded  it  about  her  once  more,  and,  her  mission 
accomplished,  was  gone  before  Gladwin  could  say 
a  word  to  detain  her  a  moment  longer. 


CHAPTER  TWELFTH 

A  CLUSTER   OF  FLEURS-DE-LIS 

WHEN  gallant  Major  Gladwin  found  himself 
alone,  he  sighed  heavily.  Grave  as  was  the 
exigency  of  the  moment,  in  his  heart  concern  for  the 
safety  of  Angelique  dominated  even  his  other  great 
anxieties.  Now  that  she  was  gone,  he  was  oppressed 
by  an  intolerable  dread  that  perhaps  while  she  dis- 
closed to  him  the  plot  against  the  English,  some 
lurking  savage  might  have  heard,  and  marked  her  as 
a  victim  for  a  swift  revenge.  If  he  could  only  keep 
her  under  his  own  protection ;  if  he  could  set  a  guard 
about  her,  even  as  a  posse  of  regulars  are  set  to  guard 
the  crown  jewels  of  England  !  But  no,  and  he  smiled 
bitterly  as  he  realized  the  truth.  The  only  succor  he 
could  give  to  the  demoiselle  was  by  silence.  She 
must  not  be  seen  speaking  to  him  or  to  any  of  the 
British ;  it  was  unfortunate  that  she  was  in  the  town 
at  all.  Good  Father  Potier  by  his  prayers  could  help 
her  far  more  than  could  the  commandant  of  the  fort, 
with  his  soldiers,  though  he  would  gladly  lay  down 
his  life  for  her  if  need  should  come. 

"  But  '  the  help  of  Heaven  is  always  good,'  and 
surely  the  God  of  armies  will  protect  so  generous  and 
brave  a  girl,"  he  said  aloud,  as  with  his  signet  ring  he 
tapped  sharply  on  the  small  gong  on  the  table  before 
him. 

"  Request  Captain  Campbell  to  come  here  at  once, 
and  do  you  carry  to  the  sergeant  my  order  that  all 


146     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

the  sentries  be  doubled,"  he  directed  O'Desmond,  who 
responded  to  his  summons. 

Captain  Campbell  reported  without  delay.  There 
was  a  hurried  conference,  and  he  left  again  to  issue 
commands  right  and  left.  Gladwin  presently  went 
out,  made  the  round  of  the  garrison  and  the  little 
town,  saw  that  his  directions  as  to  the  patrolling  of 
the  streets  and  of  the  inner  wall  were  obeyed,  that 
extra  ammunition  was  given  out,  and  then,  returning 
to  the  council  room,  sat  down  once  more  to  his  writ- 
ing-table. 

It  was  highly  probable  that  he  would  not  survive 
the  battle  of  the  next  day.  He  had  best  write  out 
for  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst  a  description  of  the  conspi- 
racy of  Pontiac,  as  he  had  heard  it,  suppressing  only 
the  name  of  his  informant,  and  transcribing  also  a 
copy  to  be  sent  in  warning  to  the  nearest  military 
post. 

The  commandant  was  thus  engaged  when  Sterling 
returned. 

"  I  was  so  careless  as  to  leave  upon  the  table  some 
papers  of  my  own,  and  I  am  come  for  them,"  he  said 
stiffly. 

Gladwin  merely  inclined  his  head. 

The  Scotchman,  having  taken  the  papers,  was 
about  to  make  his  exit,  when,  by  a  curious  co- 
incidence, O'Desmond  threw  open  the  door  and  an- 
nounced, — 

"  Sir,  the  Injun  girl  is  come  back,  and  is  bound  to 
see  you  again.  She  will  not  be  turned  away  at  all, 
at  all." 

"  Admit  her  at  once,"  replied  the  officer  brusquely. 

The  guard  disappeared,  but  Sterling  paused. 

"  You  are  favored  with  visits  from  the  fair  sex 
to-day,  Major  Gladwin,"  he  said,  with  bitter  irony. 


A   CLUSTER   OF   FLEURS-DE-LIS      147 

"You  call  an  Indian  maiden  fair ?"  inquired  the 
commandant,  ignoring  the  sarcasm. 

"  Ay,  such  an  Indian  as  was  here  not  long  since," 
retorted  the  other,  with  a  forced  laugh. 

Gladwin's  brows  lowered  ominously.  His  soul  had 
been  tried  by  many  anxieties  during  the  past  hour, 
while  the  Scotchman  was  still  ignorant  of  the  danger 
that  hung  over  the  post.  It  was  not  a  time  for  indi- 
vidual quarrels. 

Sterling's  heart  was  filled  with  doubt  and  jealousy, 
but  he  also  controlled  his  anger.  Determined  to 
remain  and  witness  this  second  interview  between 
Angelique  and  Gladwin,  he  stood  immovable.  The 
major  swore  mentally.  What  difficulties  might  not 
the  demoiselle  have  already  encountered,  since  she 
had  found  it  best  to  return?  But  perhaps  she  had 
forgotten  some  important  detail,  or  had  learned  of 
some  meditated  treachery  within  the  town?  Ster- 
ling's attitude  made  the  situation  awkward.  Glad- 
win  could  not  dismiss  the  trader,  lest  the  latter, 
resolved  to  unravel  the  mystery,  should,  unwittingly, 
direct  toward  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  the  suspicion 
of  the  French  allies  of  Pontiac.  He  dared  not  tell 
him  what  had  brought  Angelique  there  before,  be- 
cause he  had  solemnly  sworn  to  reveal  this  to  no  one. 

The  only  way  out  of  the  dilemma  was  to  assume 
an  air  of  nonchalance,  and  let  the  sequel  take  care  of 
itself.  Perhaps  the  lady's  clever  wit  would  find  a  way 
out  of  the  difficulty.  He  more  than  half  expected 
that,  seeing  the  merchant,  she  would  withdraw,  and 
await  a  better  opportunity  to  communicate  with  him. 

After  an  interval  of  a  few  minutes,  which  yet 
seemed  an  age,  the  girl  entered. 

As  before,  she  kept  her  countenance  hidden  in  the 
folds  of  her  blanket.  At  sight  of  Sterling,  she  hung 


148     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

back,  indeed,  but  did  not  retire.  The  guard  went  out 
and  closed  the  door  behind  him.  Sterling  breathed 
hard,  but  Gladwin  seemed  almost  to  cease  all  res- 
piration. The  one  man  was  anxious,  the  other  en- 
raged. Both  knew  that  in  another  moment  they 
would  be  face  to  face  with  Angelique  Cuillerier,  the 
woman  whom  Sterling  acknowledged  to  himself  that 
he  still  passionately  loved ;  the  woman  from  whose 
fascination  Gladwin  proudly  sought  to  free  himself. 

Each  saw  in  the  other  his  rival ;  each  disliked 
the  other  for  any  success  he  had  achieved  with  the 
demoiselle. 

The  muffled  figure  drew  nearer.  She  threw  back  her 
blanket  and  stood  before  them,  erect  and  motionless. 
The  two  men  started  in  surprise ;  Gladwin  laughed 
shortly,  and  Sterling  muttered  an  oath.  There  con- 
fronting them  stood,  not  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  the 
bourgeois'  daughter,  but  Catherine  the  Ojibwa. 

The  mirth  of  the  commandant  grated  rudely  upon 
the  ears  of  the  Indian,  and  with  a  sullen  scowl  she 
said,  — 

"  You  are  merry,  monsieur,  but  it  may  be  you  will 
not  be  merry  long.  After  sundown  to-morrow  you 
may  never  laugh  again." 

Here,  however,  her  voice  lost  its  resentment  and 
grew  pathetic,  as,  with  earnestness  and  eloquence, 
she  proceeded  to  pour  out  to  the  white  chief  some- 
thing of  the  same  story  which  Angelique  had  told 
him,  although  she  clearly  had  no  knowledge  of  the 
details  whereon  the  French  girl  had  dwelt  so  explicitly. 

Sterling  stood  by,  aghast  at  what  he  heard,  but 
Gladwin  scarcely  appeared  to  heed,  and  went  on  with 
his  writing. 

When  the  maiden,  perplexed  at  his  apparent  indif- 
ference, paused  and  silently  gazed  at  him,  seeking  to 


A   CLUSTER   OF   FLEURS-DE-LIS      149 

read  the  thoughts  behind  his  stern  visage,  he  looked 
up  and  said,  — 

"  Catherine,  I  thank  you  for  your  wish  to  save  the 
English,  but  you  should  not  have  remained  in  the 
fort  after  the  sunset  gun.  Return  at  once  to  your 
own  people." 

Thereat,  summoning  the  guard  by  a  stroke  upon 
the  gong,  he  directed  him,  — 

"  Soldier,  conduct  this  Indian  damsel  to  the  gate,, 
and  see  that  she  goes  out.  She  is  no  longer  to  be 
allowed  to  enter  the  stockade." 

The  sullen  expression  settled  again  upon  Catherine's 
face,  yet  not  daring  to  show  any  insubordination,  she 
turned  away  with  a  smothered  sob,  and  followed  the 
sentry. 

"  Egad,  Major  Gladwin,  you  but  ill  requite  those 
who  would  fain  serve  you  faithfully.  Though  dark- 
skinned,  the  girl  is  a  heroine,  yet  you  vouchsafed  her 
not  a  word  of  commendation  for  what  she  has  done," 
cried  Sterling,  with  heat.  "As  to  the  news,  —  which 
you  scarce  deemed  worthy  your  attention,  —  are  all 
the  British  at  Le  Detroit  to  be  slaughtered  because 
you  hold  in  contempt  the  prowess  of  the  most  blood- 
thirsty savages  on  earth?" 

Gladwin  smiled  in  an  exasperating  manner. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Sterling,"  he  rejoined,  "  do  you 
think  it  would  be  a  kindness  to  the  girl  to  permit  her 
to  remain  within  the  stockade  and  be  ferretted  out 
by  the  spies  of  Pontiac  when  he  comes  to-morrow? 
Pardon  me,  for  I  must  leave  you  ;  there  are  matters 
which  require  my  attention." 

So  saying,  he  passed  out  of  the  room,  to  go  upon 
the  bastion  and  look  abroad  upon  the  lands  of  the 
strait,  as  they  lay  tranquil  in  the  starlight. 

As  Sterling  went  home,  he  noted  that  soldiers  were 


ISO     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

being  already  stationed  in  the  streets ;  and  while  he 
supped  alone,  Jaco,  the  Pani  boy,  came  in  with  news 
that  a  sergeant  was  knocking  at  each  house-door  and 
warning  the  French  to  keep  inside  the  fortifications 
on  the  following  day,  since  the  Indians  were  known 
to  be  in  a  dangerous  mood. 

"  Humph !  the  commandant  is  not  so  like  to  be 
taken  unawares  as  I  supposed,"  soliloquized  the 
Scotchman. 

He  was  in  no  mood  to  linger  over  the  meal,  and, 
presently  rising  from  the  table,  took  down  his  musket 
from  the  wall  and  saw  to  it  that  the  lock  was  in  order. 
Then,  proceeding  to  his  sleeping  apartment,  he  got 
down  upon  his  hands  and  knees  on  the  floor,  and, 
feeling  along  the  knot-holes  of  the  boards,  pressed 
the  hidden  spring  of  a  concealed  trap-door.  The 
latter  sprang  open,  and,  raising  it,  he  leaped  into  a 
small  dug-out  or  cellar,  of  whose  existence  no  one 
knew  but  himself.  The  light  from  the  sconce  on  the 
wall  above  shining  into  the  cave  revealed  a  strong, 
iron-bound  chest.  He  threw  back  the  lid ;  the  box 
was  not  the  repository  of  golden  treasure,  but  held  a 
good  store  of  ammunition.  From  it  Sterling  rilled  his 
pouch  with  bullets.  Then  he  carefully  locked  the 
coffer  again,  and,  returning  to  the  room,  secured  the 
trap-door. 

"I  am  no  Englishman,  nor  yet  an  adherent  of 
King  George,"  he  said  aloud,  "  but  if  Pontiac  gives 
the  concerted  signal  to-morrow,  I  will  fight  to  the 
last  in  defence  of  my  friends  here  at  the  fort,  in  the 
cause  of  civilization  against  the  savage." 

The  night  of  the  6th  of  May,  1763,  was  one  of 
watching  and  activity  within  the  old  stockade  on  the 
margin  of  Le  Detroit.  Arms  were  primed,  that  they 


A   CLUSTER   OF   FLEURS-DE-LIS      151 

might  be  ready  for  use  at  any  moment,  powder  and 
shot  dealt  out,  and  the  officers  walked  through  the 
town  directing  all  preparations  for  the  expected  con- 
flict of  the  next  day. 

The  skies  were  clear,  and  the  stars,  looking  down 
upon  the  river  and  woodland,  beheld  a  scene  of  peace- 
ful beauty.  As  the  sentinels  upon  the  eastern  bas- 
tion peered  through  the  semi-darkness,  however,  they 
caught  the  gleam  of  distant  camp-fires  in  the  forest, 
and  discerned  from  time  to  time  darker  shadows  upon 
the  waters.  When  day  broke,  they  reported  that 
many  canoes  had  crossed  from  the  southern  shore, 
landing  warriors  below  the  Isle  au  Cochon. 

The  sun  rose  in  its  springtime  splendor  on  the 
broad  strait,  on  the  newly  green,  flower-dotted  prairie 
and  the  budding  woods;  upon  the  rude  farmhouses 
of  the  "  c6te  du  nord,"  the  buildings  and  blooming 
orchard  of  the  Huron  Mission,  upon  the  wooden 
bastions  and  cedar  pickets  of  the  little  fort  and  the 
Indian  camp,  a  mile  or  more  farther  up  the  river. 

Still  there  were  no  signs  of  hostility.  Rations  were 
served  to  the  garrison,  and  the  town  breakfasted; 
even  a  hero  can  be  more  heroic  when  properly  fed. 

Angelique  Cuillerier  had  spent  a  wakeful  and  rest- 
less night  at  the  habitation  of  Madame  des  Ruisseaux. 
One  thing  she  saw  plainly:  she  must  get  outside  the 
palisade  and  away  from  the  river  road  as  soon  as 
possible.  She  had  told  her  mother  that  she  was 
going  to  the  town  to  visit  their  relative,  and  would 
return  the  following  day.  She  must  now  hasten 
home,  for  if  any  of  the  Indians  should  come  to  the 
farm  of  Cuillerier  and  note  her  absence,  the  suspicion 
of  Pontiac  might  fall  upon  the  household  when  he 
learned  that  the  English  had  been  forewarned  against 
his  masterly  though  cruel  scheme. 


i52     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

It  was  not  to  Gladwin  that  she  went  for  permission 
to  leave  the  stockade,  but  to  Captain  Campbell, 
whom  she  found  at  the  gate,  giving  orders  to  the 
sentries.  Exact  as  he  was  in  his  military  duty,  he 
still  held  the  report  of  the  anticipated  attack  but 
lightly,  and  esteemed  the  preparations  of  the  com- 
mandant as  a  wise  but  hardly  necessary  precaution. 
Moreover,  he  was  too  good  a  soldier  to  have  his 
equanimity  ruffled  by  the  rumors  of  danger.  In  fact, 
he  was  of  opinion  that  a  menace  from  the  savages 
would  rouse  the  men  from  the  lethargy  of  a  long 
period  of  inaction,  and  furnish  a  rather  pleasant  little 
excitement  for  the  officers. 

It  was  with  his  usual  genial  smile,  therefore,  that 
he  wheeled  about  at  sight  of  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier, 
and  bowed  to  her  with  urbane  formality. 

"  Bon  jour,  monsieur  le  capitaine,"  began  Ange- 
lique  in  French,  which  she  always  spoke,  leaving  her 
English  acquaintances  to  understand  her  as  best  they 
might,  "  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  let  me  go  through 
the  gate?  I  came  into  the  town  yesterday  to  stay 
the  night  with  my  aunt,  and  expecting  to  have  a  gay 
evening  with  my  friends,  and  '  ma  foi,'  what  did  I 
find  but  the  whole  place  in  commotion ;  no  merriment 
at  all  or  use  for  the  dancing  slippers  that  I  brought, 
and  my  gloves,  Captain  Campbell,  —  the  gloves  Sir 
William  Johnson  ordered  for  me  from  London. 
Ciel !  instead  of  music  and  gayety,  the  streets  were 
patrolled  with  soldiers  all  the  night  long.  English 
and  French  think  of  nothing  but  to  make  ready  their 
firelocks.  The  like  I  have  not  seen  since  the  British 
themselves  were  reported  as  down  the  river,  and  we 
prepared  to  give  them  a  warm  reception ;  which 
would  have  been  the  case  indeed  but  for  that  stupid 
capitulation  of  the  Marquis  de  Vaudreuil." 


A    CLUSTER   OF   FLEURS-DE-LIS     153 

"  Have  a  care,  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  captain, 
entering  into  her  humor.  "  Some  day  you  also  may 
capitulate  to  a  gallant  Englishman.  La  Nouvelle 
France  was  like  a  beautiful  widow,  so  fair  that  Eng- 
land sought  to  wed  her;  and  in  turn  each  son  of 
Britain  who  comes  hither  wooes,  and  swears  to  win, 
one  of  her  beautiful  daughters  for  his  wife." 

"A  pretty  compliment,"  said  Angelique,  with  a 
courtesy;  "now,  I  pray  you,  monsieur  le  capitaine, 
let  me  through  the  gate." 

"  Ha,  ha  !  here  I  have  a  blithe  Canadian  bobolink 
safe  in  an  English  cage;  why  should  I  set  it  free?" 
he  cried ;  and  then  growing  serious,  added,  "  In  truth, 
mademoiselle,  for  your  own  sake  I  must  deny  your 
request.  With  the  town  awaiting  an  Indian  outbreak, 
it  is  certainly  not  safe  for  you  to  set  out  alone  across 
the  plain." 

Angelique  paled  a  trifle,  yet  she  persisted  entreat- 
in  gly,  — 

"  Oh,  I  beseech  you,  Monsieur  Campbell !  My 
mother  will  be  distraught  with  anxiety  if  there  is  a 
conflict  with  the  savages  and  I  am  not  at  home.  A 
quarter  of  an  hour  since,  I  heard  your  sentinels  call 
that  all  is  still  quiet  at  the  Ottawa  camp.  I  can  reach 
the  c6te  before  anything  happens.  And  —  and  — 
even  if  I  should  chance  to  meet  a  band  of  Indians  on 
the  road,  the  principal  warriors  know  me  to  be  the 
daughter  of  Antoine  Cuillerier.  They  have  no  griev- 
ance against  the  French ;  and,  having  eaten  at  the 
hearth-fire  of  my  father,  they  will  not  harm  me." 

It  was  not  possible  for  the  captain  to  resist  the 
pleadings  of  the  sprightly  demoiselle,  especially  since 
what  she  said  was  sage  and  sensible.  If  she  could 
gain  her  home  betimes,  she  would  be  much  safer 
there  than  in  the  town. 


154     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"Very  well,  you  shall  go,  mademoiselle,"  he  an- 
swered, "  provided  you  accept  the  escort  of  young 
Jasmin  de  Joncaire,  who  has  also  obtained  permission 
to  return  to  the  '  c6te  du  nord-est.'  "  1 

Angelique  pursed  her  red  lips  in  pouting  protest, 
but  the  officer  was  firm. 

"  You  must  have  a  protector,"  he  explained,  "  and 
Monsieur  de  Joncaire  is  well  armed." 

The  girl  flashed  from  a  leather  sheath  beneath 
her  belt  a  long  knife,  such  as  those  used  by  the 
coureurs  de  bois. 

"  So  am  I,"  she  cried,  with  sudden  vehemence. 

Jasmin  de  Joncaire  was  already  at  hand,  having 
stepped  forth  from  behind  a  group  of  by-standers, 
eager  to  assure  her  that  he  would  guard  her  safety  at 
the  risk  of  his  life. 

"  I  will  intrust  to  you,  then,  monsieur,  the  duty 
of  conducting  this  demoiselle  with  all  speed  to  the 
Cuillerier  homestead,"  enjoined  Captain  Campbell. 

It  was  expedient  to  yield  gracefully. 

"  Monsieur  de  Joncaire  is  an  old  friend  and  neigh- 
bor, and  I  shall  be  glad  of  his  company,"  Angelique 
said,  with  a  toss  of  her  curls. 

The  next  moment,  at  a  signal  from  the  captain,  the 
guard  threw  open  the  postern,  the  wayfarers  passed 
out,  and  the  wicket  was  closed  and  barred  after  them. 

Choosing  a  by-path  across  the  prairie,  they  con- 
tinued on  for  half  an  hour  without  adventure.  An- 
gelique's  spirits  rose ;  the  sense  of  danger  thrilled  her 
with  a  nervous  excitement,  which  was  mistaken  by 
De  Joncaire  for  an  irrepressible  gaiety.  The  air  was 

1  All  the  prairie  on  the  northern  shore  of  the  strait  was  called  "  la 
c6te  du  nord."  The  locality  above  the  fort  was  sometimes  more  par- 
ticularly designated  "  la  c6te  du  nord-est,"  that  below  the  fort "  la  cote 
du  nord-ouest," 


A   CLUSTER   OF   FLEURS-DE-LIS      155 

sweet  and  fresh,  and,  as  they  walked  along,  the  purple 
eyes  of  the  early  violets  looked  up  from  the  grass,  the 
dandelions  offered  them  a  harvest  of  golden  coins, 
and  in  swampy  places  the  fleurs-de-lis  raised  their 
stately  heads.  The  French  girl  plucked  a  cluster  of 
the  latter,  and  kissed  them  passionately. 

"  I  love  the  fleurs-de-lis,"  she  exclaimed,  with 
ardor.  "  No  blossom  that  grows  is  so  beautiful,  to 
my  thinking." 

Jasmin  smiled  in  proud  approval.  The  journey  of 
the  two  young  people  together  was  nearly  over ;  a  few 
rods  more,  and  they  would  be  at  the  Cuillerier  farm. 
Anon  they  reached  the  gate  of  its  strong  palisade. 

"  Give  me  the  fleurs-de-lis  to  wear  in  my  chapeau," 
pleaded  the  youth  tenderly.  He  remembered  that 
Angelique  had  kissed  the  flowers. 

For  this  reason,  however,  the  captious  demoiselle 
was  unwilling  he  should  have  them.  He  argued  the 
matter,  and  while  averting  her  eyes  from  his  admiring 
gaze,  Angelique  chanced  to  glance  up  the  river  bank. 

"  Oh,  look,  look,  Jasmin  !  "  she  cried. 

Toward  them  along  the  road  approached  in  single 
file  a  line  of  Indian  braves,  wrapped  in  their  blankets. 
As  the  redmen  came  nearer,  the  young  man  and  the 
girl  recognized  in  the  leader  the  war  chief,  Pontiac, 
crested  with  eagles'  feathers,  and  arrayed  in  all  the 
savage  finery  that  pertains  to  a  mighty  king  among 
warriors,  as  though  he  were  about  to  participate  in  a 
great  feast. 

Now  he  was  but  a  few  rods  away,  his  followers 
coming  close  behind.  The  two  Canadians  could  dis- 
tinguish his  fierce  features,  rendered  more  terrible  by 
the  daubs  of  ochre  upon  his  high  cheek-bones,  the 
tracery  of  indigo  upon  the  beetling  brow,  and  the 
shaven  head  bright  with  vermilion  and  bear's  grease. 


156     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

Angelique  almost  shrieked  aloud  in  terror,  but  by 
an  effort  she  choked  back  the  cry  that  rose  to  her 
lips.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  run  to  the  house,  but 
her  limbs  grew  so  weak  that  she  could  scarcely  have 
done  so.  Yet  to  cry  out  or  flee  would  be  perilous. 
Why  should  she  be  afraid  of  Pontiac  and  his  braves? 
Were  they  not  on  terms  of  friendship  with  the  French? 
She  stood  motionless,  therefore.  Her  hat  had  fallen 
from  her  hand,  and  lay  concealed  from  the  view  of 
any  one  on  the  road  by  a  budding  snowberry-bush 
inside  the  gate.  The  girl  breathed  freer  as  she 
quickly  reflected  that  she  might  be  supposed  to  have 
come  down  the  garden  path  for  a  word  with  the  good- 
looking  Jasmin.  Even  the  astute  Ottawa  could  not 
divine  by  instinct  that  she  had  been  at  the  fort.  And 
if  he  should  learn  it  later,  after  all,  what  was  more 
natural  than  that  she  had  been  to  see  her  aunt,  and 
as  she  left  the  town  had  been  heard  to  complain  be- 
cause she  had  been  disappointed  about  a  dance,  and 
to  sigh  for  the  good  old  days  when  her  uncle,  Mon- 
sieur de  Bellestre,  was  commandant  at  Le  Detroit? 

Although  half  fainting  with  fear,  Angelique  re- 
mained leaning  against  a  post  of  the  gate  and  within 
its  shadow.  She  dared  not  look  up,  but  bent  her 
head  low  over  the  chapeau  of  De  Joncaire,  which  he 
had  a  moment  before  vainly  held  out  to  her  with  the 
request  that  she  would  fasten  in  with  the  ribbon  two 
or  three  sprays  of  the  bright  fleurs-de-lis. 

Now  she  tightly  clutched  the  picturesque  straw 
headpiece,  and  was  thankful  that  with  it  she  could 
screen  her  face.  If  Pontiac  noticed  her  at  all,  how- 
ever, it  was  as  one  of  Antoine  Cuillerier's  older  pap- 
pooses,  who  had  been  in  the  meadow  gathering  spring 
flowers.  With  but  a  glance  at  Jasmin,  he  passed  on, 
followed  by  his  sixty  warriors,  one  behind  the  other. 


A    CLUSTER    OF   FLEURS-DE-LIS      157 

At  sight  of  the  young  people  there  flitted  over  the 
visages  of  two  or  three  of  the  braves  as  near  an 
approach  to  a  smile  as  ever  relaxed  their  solemn 
features.  Doubtless  they  thought  the  loiterers  were 
lovers,  dallying  in  the  sunshine. 

Near  the  end  of  the  file  came  the  son  of  the  Ottawa 
chief.  Panigwun  and  De  Joncaire  had  often  been 
together  on  short  expeditions  into  the  forest  to  shoot 
game  and  birds.  Now  as  the  young  brave  recognized 
in  the  man  at  the  gate  his  former  comrade  he  laughed, 
a  rough,  mirthless  laugh,  and,  with  a  jerk  of  his  thumb 
toward  the  blossoms  in  the  hand  of  the  girl,  said, — 

"  Ugh,  the  flowers  of  the  French  !  Soon  you  shall 
see  them  growing  again  in  the  air,  down  yonder." 

Glancing  sharply  at  Jasmin,  he  opened  the  folds  of 
his  blanket.  Something  beneath  it  caught  and  flashed 
back  a  sunbeam  that  played  about  his  straight  figure  ; 
the  gleaming  steel  was  a  shortened  gunbarrel. 

Having  shown  his  weapon,  Panigwun  patted  it  with 
savage  satisfaction,  and  pointed  once  more  toward  the 
fort.  Then,  with  a  sudden  lurch  forward,  he  stretched 
forth  his  hand  to  seize  the  flowers. 

Angelique  uttered  a  low  cry,  and  they  fell  from 
her  grasp,  while  Jasmin  in  a  rage  pushed  him  away. 
At  another  time  there  would  have  been  a  fierce 
quarrel;  but  on  this  morning  "the  Strong  Wing- 
Feather  "  was  pledged  to  follow  his  father  Pontiac, 
and  he  had  already  well-nigh  lost  his  place  in  the 
line. 

With  a  threatening  gesture  toward  De  Joncaire, 
therefore,  and  another  gutteral  laugh,  he  sped  swiftly 
down  the  road  after  the  long  chain  of  warriors  that, 
like  a  venomous  snake,  writhed  along  beside  the  river, 
onward,  onward,  to  wind  its  deadly  coils  about  the 
garrison  at  the  fort  of  Le  Detroit. 


CHAPTER  THIRTEENTH 

THE   GREAT   OTTAWA 

MEANTIME,  on  the  prairie  outside  the  stockade 
many  Indians  began  to  gather,  young  braves 
who  made  a  feint  of  playing  at  lacrosse,  squaws  and 
children,  apparently  spectators  of  the  game.  Within 
the  fort  the  garrison  was  under  arms.  Sterling  and 
the  English  fur  traders  had  closed  their  storehouses 
and  armed  their  men ;  all  awaited  with  calm  courage 
the  result  of  the  approaching  interview. 

At  ten  o'clock,  Pontiac  and  his  followers  reached 
the  gate  that  faced  the  "  c6te  du  nord-est."  It  stood 
open,  and,  as  he  passed  in,  his  immobile  countenance 
betrayed  no  surprise  at  sight  of  the  soldiers  who  lined 
both  sides  of  the  narrow  street,  their  weapons  gleam- 
ing in  the  sunshine. 

The  roll  of  the  tambour,  like  the  growl  of  a  mastiff, 
warned  him  to  beware ;  but,  haughtily  raising  his  head, 
he  led  his  warriors  onward  to  the  council  house, 
while  from  the  homes  of  the  French  the  frightened 
women  and  children  watched  them  as  they  went  by. 

The  door  of  the  British  headquarters  was  also  ajar, 
and  entering,  they  there  found  Major  Gladwin  and 
his  officers.  Each  of  the  white  men  wore  a  pair  of 
pistols  in  his  belt  and  a  sword  at  his  side.  The  prin- 
cipal chiefs  seated  themselves  upon  the  skins  that  had 
been  spread  for  them,  the  others  ranged  around  the 
walls  and  crowded  the  hallway;  the  place  swarmed 
with  them. 


THE    GREAT   OTTAWA  159 

For  a  time  the  silence  was  unbroken.  Then  the 
Great  Ottawa,  turning  to  the  commandant,  asked  with 
affected  mildness,  — 

"  How  is  it  that  so  many  of  my  father's  young  men 
stand  in  the  street  with  their  guns?  Does  my  father 
expect  the  soldiers  of  the  French?  " 

Gladvvin  spoke  a  few  words  to  the  interpreter  La 
Butte,  and  the  latter  repeated  them  in  the  Indian 
tongue. 

"The  commandant  has  ordered  his  young  men 
under  arms  to  keep  them  ever  prompt  and  ready  in 
the  military  drill,"  he  said  significantly.  "  Thus,  if  a 
war  comes  they  will  be  able  to  fight  well." 

The  sixty  chiefs  remained  grim  and  dumb,  their 
dark  eyes  turning  from  Pontiac  to  Gladwin,  and  fur- 
tively watching  the  guards  in  the  room.  Their  severe 
training,  which  taught  them  to  endure  even  torture 
with  stolidity,  stood  them  now  in  good  stead ;  not  an 
eye  quailed,  not  by  the  least  motion  did  they  betray 
the  deadly  purpose  of  their  coming.  They  were 
ready  to  slay  or  to  be  slain ;  the  manner  wherewith 
their  chief  should  present  the  peace  belt  would  de- 
cide the  life  or  death  of  six  hundred  beings  at  the  least. 
After  a  time  Pontiac  rose  and  addressed  Gladwin. 

"  My  father,"  he  said,  "  we  are  come  in  friendship 
for  the  English.  You  are  great  chiefs.  You  have 
driven  the  French  warriors  from  Le  Detroit  because 
you  are  mighty  men  in  battle.  The  Ottawas  and  all 
the  tribes  of  the  country  of  the  strait  wish  to  show 
you  their  good  will  and  to  smoke  with  you  the  pipe  of 
peace.  In  token  of  this  friendship,  I,  Pontiac,  the 
chief  of  many  tribes,  offer  you  this  belt  of  wampum." 

As  the  Great  Chief  began  to  unfasten  the  white 
belt  from  his  girdle,  the  guards  in  the  hall  clicked 
the  locks  of  their  muskets,  the  officers  half  drew  their 


160     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

swords  from  the  scabbards,  the  sentinel  at  the  open 
door  signalled  to  a  long  row  of  soldiers  stationed  in 
front  of  the  entrance ;  the  drums  rolled  the  assembly, 
and  the  soldiers  made  a  noisy  clatter  of  arms. 

Death  hovered  in  the  air,  and  Pontiac  felt  its  near- 
ness. His  hand  did  not  tremble ;  the  belt  was  un- 
fastened ;  he  retained  it  an  instant  in  hesitation.  All 
present  seemed  to  refrain  from  breathing.  Then  he 
handed  it  to  Gladwin  in  the  usual  fashion,  —  and 
Death  passed  them  by. 

It  was  now  Gladwin's  turn  to  speak. 

Having  received  the  belt,  with  cold  scorn  he  poured 
upon  Pontiac  and  his  followers  caustic  words  of 
reproach. 

"  False  redmen,  you  have  sought  to  deceive  me 
with  lies  and  to  slay  me  by  treachery,"  he  cried. 
"  But  I  know  your  baseness.  You  are  armed,  every 
warrior  among  you,  like  this  brave  by  my  side." 

He  rose  from  his  chair  of  state,  stepped  to  the 
nearest  Indian,  and,  snatching  open  the  folds  of  his 
blanket,  revealed  the  shortened  gun  concealed  be- 
neath. 

"My  father  does  us  wrong;  he  does  not  believe; 
then  we  will  go,"  replied  Pontiac,  getting  upon  his 
feet. 

"  When  you  asked  to  hold  a  council  with  me,  I 
agreed  that  you  should  be  free  to  go  forth  again.  I 
will  abide  by  the  promise,  little  as  you  deserve  such 
clemency,"  proceeded  the  commandant.  "  Howbeit, 
treacherous  dogs,  you  had  best  make  your  way 
speedily  out  of  the  fort,  lest  my  young  men,  being 
made  acquainted  with  your  evil  design,  may  fall  upon 
you,  and  cut  you  to  pieces." 

Pontiac's  falcon  eyes  gleamed  with  anger,  but  with 
royal  dignity  he  gathered  his  blanket  about  his  broad 


THE    GREAT.  OTTAWA  161 

shoulders  and  walked  slowly  from  the  council  room, 
and  out  between  the  double  line  of  soldiers,  followed 
by  his  warriors. 

Silent  and  sullen,  they  filed  once  more  through  the 
town.  The  gates  of  the  palisade,  which  had  been 
closed  during  the  conference,  were  again  thrown 
open,  and  the  defeated  savages  were  permitted  to  de- 
part, congratulating  themselves,  no  doubt,  as  they 
reached  the  open  prairie. 

When  they  were  gone,  there  was  great  rejoicing  in 
the  fort.  It  was  the  general  opinion  that  since  Major 
Gladwin  had  unmasked  the  scheme  of  the  Indians, 
and  yet  shown  them  mercy,  he  had  thus  disposed  of 
the  whole  matter,  and  they  would  in  future  be  more 
favorably  disposed  toward  the  English.  Sterling  did 
not,  however,  share  this  supposition,  and  in  the  after- 
noon he  called  at  headquarters  to  offer  himself  for 
whatever  future  service  might  be  required  of  him. 

Having  stated  his  errand  to  the  commandant,  he 
added  bluntly,  — 

"  In  faith,  Major  Gladwin,  I  regret  that  you  suffered 
the  perfidious  Indians  to  escape.  An  entrapped  wolf 
meets  with  no  quarter  from  the  hunter,  and  a  savage 
caught  in  his  treachery  has  no  claim  to  forbearance." 

"  Mr.  Sterling,"  replied  the  major,  drawing  himself 
up  to  his  full  height,  "  it  is  not  incumbent  upon  me 
to  explain  my  position  to  any  one  at  the  strait. 
Nevertheless,  I  will  say  that  had  I  arrested  the  chiefs 
when  they  were  gathered  at  a  public  council,  the  act 
would  have  been  ill  interpreted  by  both  the  French 
and  the  savages.  I  trust,  however,  that  the  threatened 
war-cloud  will  soon  blow  over." 

While  they  were  speaking,  O'Desmond  entered. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  outside  are  six  Injun  divils,  who 
have  dragged  a  squaw  here  with  thim.  Red  naiger 


162     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

as  she  is,  shure  the  creature  's  a  woman,  and  't  would 
melt  the  heart  of  a  stone  to  see  the  way  they  bran- 
dished their  knives  over  her,  like  so  many  fiends. 
'  Shtop  that/  I  calls  to  them  in  Irish.  '  She 's  now 
within  the  gates,  and  if  you  hurt  a  hair  of  her  head 
the  major '11  set  ye  up  as  targets  an'  have  ye  riddled 
with  bullets.'  Well,  the  Irish  is  a  most  commanding 
language,  an'  belike  the  tone  of  me  voice  had  in  it 
a  thwack  of  the  shillaleh.  Whether  or  no,  they 
quieted  down  a  bit,  and  one  said  in  his  jibberish,  with 
a  touch  of  '  parlez-vous,'  what  I  made  out  to  be  that 
they  'd  hunted  the  creature  out  of  the  village  of  the 
Foxes  and  fetched  her  here  for  you  to  say,  sir,  if 
t'  was  she  who  told  you  that  the  Evil  One  himself,  an' 
that 's  Pontiac,  wanted  to  murder  us  all  without  shrift. 
The  which  they  say  is  all  lies,  sir,  the  blackest  of  lies, 
for  they  are  the  most  peaceable  creatures  that  ever 
lived,  and  by  the  same  token  this  Misther  Pontiac 
is  a  most  dacent,  mild-mannered  man." 

Here  O'Desmond  unmistakably  shut  one  eye,  and 
grinned  at  the  commandant. 

Gladwin  impatiently  shifted  his  position.  He  was 
sometimes  inclined  to  overlook  the  garrulity  of  the 
Irishman  because  of  the  latter's  fidelity  and  his 
splendid  fighting  qualities.  Besides,  while  in  im- 
portant points  a  strict  disciplinarian,  he  had  learned 
that  to  be  too  much  of  a  martinet  in  regard  to  small 
matters  in  the  wilderness  would  have  lost  him  the 
good  will  of  his  soldiers. 

"  I  will  not  receive  these  savages,"  he  said.  Then 
a  thought  arrested  his  refusal.  If  he  denied  them 
admittance,  would  they  not  wreck  their  anger  upon 
the  squaw  with  barbarous  cruelty? 

"  Stay !    You  may  conduct  them  here,"  he  ordered. 

They  came,  pushing  and  jostling  their   prisoner, 


THE   GREAT    OTTAWA  163 

urging  her  forward  at  the  points  of  their  knives,  and 
finally  halting  before  the  officer,  as  he  stood  with  his 
back  to  the  chimney  of  the  council  room,  conversing 
thus  coolly  with  Sterling. 

With  darkening  countenance  he  saw  that  the 
woman  was  the  Ojibwa  Catherine,  or  Nedawniss. 
The  trader  was  scarcely  less  shocked.  "  What  would 
the  major  do?"  he  asked  himself.  "  How  was  he  to 
save  the  girl  from  being  torn  limb  from  limb  by 
these  vultures?  " 

Poor  Catherine,  indeed,  presented  a  spectacle  of 
misery.  Her  glossy  hair  was  now  dishevelled,  her 
face  swollen  from  weeping;  her  cotton  gown  un- 
sightly from  the  mud  that  had  been  flung  at  her  by 
men,  women,  and  children,  as  she  passed  through  the 
Indian  settlements. 

With  a  low  moan,  she  fell  forward  on  her  face  be- 
fore the  commandant. 

"  Kill  me,  white  chief,"  she  prayed,  "  but  do  not 
deliver  me  again  into  the  hands  of  the  Ottawas." 

Gladwin  stooped,  and  raised  her  to  her  feet.  Even 
at  the  grasp  of  his  hand  she  seemed  to  gain  new 
courage. 

He  summoned  the  interpreter,  La  Butte,  and 
through  him  addressed  the  braves  with  stern  upbraid- 
ing. 

"Why  do  you  maltreat  the  young  squaw?"  he 
asked.  "  It  was  not  from  her  that  I  learned  of  the 
dark  designs  of  your  chief  Pontiac.  It  was  the  All- 
Seeing  and  All-Knowing  God  who  revealed  to  me 
the  treacherous  conspiracy." 

The  Indians  wavered,  puzzled  and  amazed. 

"  My  word,  he  carries  it  off  well,"  Sterling  com- 
mented to  himself,  noting  the  unflinching  gaze  where- 
with the  major  cowed  the  savages.  "  Gladwin  was 


1 64     THE   HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

bound,  in  common  humanity,  to  shield  the  girl  from 
the  fury  of  her  people.  But,  forsooth,  he  can  beat 
the  aborigines  with  their  own  weapons.  Had  I  not 
myself  heard  the  Ojibwa  tell  him  the  tale,  I  would 
not  know  him  to  be  lying." 

"  Release  her,"  continued  the  commandant,  as  the 
braves  still  hesitated.  "  She  shall  leave  the  fort 
by  one  gate,  and  you  will  go  out  by  the  other.  But 
first,  soldier,  you  will  see  that  these  men  are  fur- 
nished with  beer  and  bread.  Provide  also  some 
refreshment  for  the  girl." 

The  prospect  of  being  regaled  with  the  white 
man's  food  and  drink,  especially  the  latter,  rendered 
the  Indians  tractable  for  the  time,  and  they  agreed  to 
let  the  young  woman  go. 

"  Shure,  to  fill  them  up  with  lead  would  be  far  bet- 
ther,"  grumbled  O'Desmond  audaciously,  as  he  led 
them  away  to  the  kitchen. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  the  little  military 
post  lay  tranquil  in  the  sunshine,  as  though  protected 
by  the  truce  of  God. 

Early  in  the  afternoon,  Pontiac  came  to  the  fort 
with  three  of  his  chiefs,  declared  that  "  evil  birds  had 
sung  lies  in  the  ears  of  the  English,"  and  asked  the 
commandant  and  Captain  Campbell  to  smoke  a 
peace-pipe  with  him.  It  would  have  been  madness 
to  decline.  Both  officers  therefore  smoked  a  few 
whiffs  of  the  pipe,  but  when  the  captain  would  have 
returned  it,  the  Ottawa  said,  — 

"  No,  Eagle  Heart,  I  will  leave  this  sacred  calumet 
in  your  hands  as  a  pledge  of  our  faith." 

An  hour  or  more  later  many  young  braves  and 
habitants  gathered  on  the  common  to  play  ball.  At 
dusk  the  garrison  was  startled  by  a  burst  of  loud, 
shrill  yells,  the  drums  beat  to  arms,  and  the  troops 


THE    GREAT   OTTAWA  165 

were  ordered  to  their  positions ;  but  the  alarm  was 
only  caused  by  the  victors  in  the  ball  game,  who  an- 
nounced their  success  by  these  discordant  cries. 

It  was  early  in  the  morning  of  the  9th  of  May,  — 
so  early  that  the  sun  had  not  yet  shot  his  golden 
arrows  before  him,  as  a  signal  that  he  was  coming 
from  beyond  the  dark  forests  stretching  for  leagues 
back  of  the  Ottawa  village;  so  early  that  all  the 
settlements  on  the  banks  of  Le  Detroit  were  still 
wrapped  in  slumber. 

The  sky  was  cloudless,  betokening  the  awakening 
of  a  perfect  day ;  the  blue  waters  flowed  on  in  majesty, 
as  they  had  flowed  since  the  first  dawn  of  their  crea- 
tion; on  the  prairies  that  bordered  the  strait  the  dew 
lay  in  the  fleecy  gossamers  called  by  the  habitants 
"the  Virgin's  web;  "  a  flight  of  gulls  passed  over  the 
river;  with  joyous  tranquillity  Nature  awaited  the 
coming  of  her  lover;  the  song-birds  called  to  one 
another,  making  ready  to  greet  him  with  a  burst  of 
melody. 

"  How  fair  and  beautiful  is  the  world,  even  as  if 
fresh  from  the  hand  of  its  Maker,"  exclaimed  Father 
Potier,  as,  occupied  with  the  points  of  the  pious  medi- 
tation prescribed  by  the  rule  of  his  order,  he  walked 
beneath  the  blossom-laden  trees  of  the  mission  or- 
chard. This  was  the  day  set  down  in  the  calendar 
for  the  blessing  of  the  fields.  In  another  hour  he 
would  begin  the  Mass  in  the  chapel,  and  his  red- 
skinned  congregation  would  gather  about  him ;  but 
at  present  not  a  soul  save  himself  seemed  abroad  on 
either  shore,  though,  in  the  mission  house,  Brother 
Regis  and  Brother  La  Tour  were  already  at  work. 

Before  long  the  good  father  finished  his  devotions 
for  the  nonce,  but  still  he  lingered,  lost  in  thought, 


i66     THE    HEROINE    OF    THE   STRAIT 

beneath  the  blooming  apple  trees.  His  mind  was 
troubled  about  his  people.  The  history  of  Pontiac's 
visit  to  the  fort  with  the  sixty  warriors,  and  his  anger 
at  finding  the  English  prepared  and  wary,  had  created 
much  excitement  in  the  vicinity  of  the  mission ;  for 
the  Ottawa  chief  was  seeking  by  both  promises  and 
threats  to  induce  the  Hurons  to  join  his  conspiracy. 

On  the  day  before  (Sunday),  therefore,  Monsieur 
Potier  had  preached  to  them  most  earnestly  upon 
the  blessings  of  peace,  and  significantly  warned  them 
that  vengeance  was  not  to  be  taken  upon  guiltless 
individuals  for  the  injustice  inflicted  by  a  govern- 
ment ;  that  massacre  was  not  war,  but  murder. 

The  heart  of  the  missionary  was  filled  with  a  deep 
pity  for  the  aborigines.  Daily  he  prayed  that  their 
wrongs  might  be  righted ;  yet  he  was  far-seeing 
enough  to  discern  that  even  should  Pontiac  succeed 
in  driving  the  strangers  from  the  Country  of  the 
Lakes,  it  would  be  only  for  a  time.  Sagacious  and 
clever  as  was  the  chief,  he  could  not  permanently  re- 
sist the  power  that  had  sent  the  redcoats  into  the  wil- 
derness. He  might  slaughter  the  garrisons  from 
Michilimackinac  to  Niagara  and  deluge  the  land  with 
blood,  but  from  this  seed  there  would  arise  new 
soldiers,  even  as  in  the  old  fable  armies  were  said 
to  have  sprung  up  from  the  sown  dragon's  teeth. 
Father  Potier  knew  that  the  Ottawa's  scheme,  bold  and 
brilliant  as  it  was,  meant  only  ultimate  misery  to  the 
warriors  at  the  strait,  suffering,  peril,  and  destitution 
for  the  women  and  children.  He  was  resolved  to 
keep  from  this  misery  those  who  would  listen  to  his 
words ;  the  Hurons  of  his  mission  who  had  been  en- 
ticed away  from  the  north  by  the  Sieur  de  Cadillac ; 
the  redmen  whose  ancestors  had  greeted  "  Le  Pere 
Marquette  "  with  "  the  heart's  right  hand  of  welcome," 


THE   GREAT   OTTAWA  167 

Yes,  he,  Pierre  Potier,  the  Black  Robe,  was  their 
friend,  their  father,  and  he  would  save  them  if  he 
could. 

Thus  he  continued  to  devise  how  he  could  best 
insure  their  welfare,  when  suddenly  a  footfall  almost 
beside  him  caused  him  to  stop  short  in  his  walk ;  and 
as  he  turned  abruptly  he  beheld,  well-nigh  at  his  elbow, 
an  Indian  maiden. 

"  Catherine  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  astonishment,  recog- 
nizing the  girl  as  the  Ojibwa  whose  sweet  voice  had 
until  recently  led  his  mission  choir,  and  was  as  the 
notes  of  the  thrush  in  a  chorus  of  woodland  birds. 
"  Catherine,  you  have  come  early  for '  the  services ; 
see,  it  is  not  yet  sunrise.  But  why  is  it,  my  child, 
that  you  have  absented  yourself  of  late  from  the 
holy  Mass  and  Vespers,  that  you  no  longer  join 
with  your  sisters  in  singing  the  praises  of  the  good 
God?" 

"  Oh,  my  father,  do  not  reproach  me,"  cried  the 
girl,  throwing  up  her  hands  and  swaying  to  and  fro 
in  sorrowing  fashion.  "  I  have  indeed  had  a  bad 
heart,  —  an  evil  flame  has  burned  in  my  breast.  I 
have  had  revengeful  thoughts  and  prayed  wicked 
prayers.  I  have  forgotten  your  teaching,  and  raised 
my  voice  in  incantations  to  the  heathen  gods  of  my 
people.  But  I  have  been  greatly  punished,  my  father. 
I  have  been  beaten  with  rods, —  I,  the  daughter  of  a 
chief.  I  have  been  humbled  before  the  man  in 
whose  eyes  I  would  fain  appear  with  most  favor. 
And  now  I  am  come  to  you,  my  father,  to  acknowl- 
edge my  fault." 

"  Go,  then,  and  kneel  on  the  step  of  the  chapel, 
daughter.  Brother  La  Tour  will  open  the  door  be- 
times. Prepare  to  confess  with  the  other  penitents 
before  the  Mass,"  said  the  priest  gently. 


i68     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

"  Black  Robe,  I  will  do  so ;  but  as  the  friend  of  the 
poor  Indian,  listen  now  also,"  she  entreated,  falling  on 
her  knees  at  the  feet  of  the  missionary.  "  My  father, 
the  Indian  girl  has  a  heart  of  fire ;  to  her  the  white 
man  appears  as  a  god." 

Father  Potier  sighed  and  raised  his  eyes  to  Heaven. 
How  often  he  had  heard  the  story ;  how  tirelessly  had 
he  striven  to  keep  the  lambs  of  his  fold  within  the 
boundaries  of  the  mission  villages;  how  rejoiced 
he  was  when  the  forest  maidens  married  with  the 
warriors  of  their  own  or  the  neighboring  tribes ! 

"A  Frenchman  has  won  your  love,  my  daughter?" 
he  asked.  "  Tell  me  his  name,  and  I  will  speak  to 
Father  Bocquet,  who  will  see  to  it  that  your  marriage 
is  duly  solemnized." 

"  No,  no,  Black  Robe,"  she  murmured,  with  a  chok- 
ing sob,  crouching  lower  and  clasping  her  shoulders 
with  either  hand,  so  that  her  arms  formed  a  cross 
upon  her  breast.  "  It  is  not  a  Frenchman ;  it  is  one 
of  the  strangers." 

"  Then,  girl,  you  must  tear  this  love  from  your 
breast  as  though  it  were  a  viper,"  exhorted  the  priest, 
with  vehemence.  "  The  English  marry  not  with 
the  Indian,  as  do  the  French  sometimes.  Strangle 
this  viper  love,  or  't  is  your  own  soul  it  will  feed 
upon." 

"  My  father,  I  cannot.  It  is  the  white  chief  at  the 
fort  whom  I  love." 

Father  Potier's  start  of  surprise  was  scarcely  per- 
ceptible, yet  it  did  not  escape  the  acute  senses  of  the 
Indian. 

"  Yes,  the  yellow-haired,  pale-faced  commandant. 
I  love  him  as  the  summer  loves  the  west  wind.  I  love 
him  more  than  man  was  ever  loved  before.  But  the 
Holy  Virgin  folded  me  in  her  fair  white  mantle ;  she 


THE   GREAT   OTTAWA  169 

held  her  holy  veil  before  my  heart,  though  I  was  un- 
worthy. He  does  not  know  the  fierceness  of  my  love. 
The  glance  of  the  forest  maiden  is  keen  as  the  eyes  of 
Pawpawsay,  the  woodpecker.  I  soon  came  to  hate 
a  French  demoiselle,  because  upon  her  the  paleface 
chief  bestows  the  love  which  to  me  would  be  more 
precious  than  many  bracelets  of  silver,  more  than 
many  strings  of  silver  half-moons  and  necklaces  of 
wampum  beads,  more  than  all  the  jewels  in  the  crown 
of  the  English  King.  Report  came  to  me  of  a  plan 
by  which  my  people  hoped  to  rid  the  country  of  the 
red-clad  dogs  who  have  stolen  the  hunting-grounds 
of  our  warriors.  I  thought  I  would  go  to  the  English 
chief  and  warn  him.  Then  the  vipers  in  my  heart 
aroused  themselves.  '  Fool,'  they  hissed,  '  the  Eng- 
lish chief  does  not  love  you;  let  him  die  with  the 
rest.' " 

The  girl  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  Father 
Potier  waited  patiently. 

Presently  she  raised  her  head,  and  continued  in  a 
harder  tone,  — 

"  I  went  to  this  demoiselle  whom  the  white  chief  loves. 
To  torture  her  I  told  her  something  of  the  plot,  but 
not  enough  to  permit  her  to  save  her  lover.  I  knew, 
too,  that  being  a  French  girl,  she  could  do  nothing, 
since  if  she  tried  to  warn  him  by  word  or  signal,  the 
anger  of  Pontiac  would  fall  upon  her.  I  saw  her 
tremble  and  grow  pale  with  fear.  Then  I  sped  away 
in  my  boat,  my  beloved  '  Nedjemon.'  She  called 
after  me  in  her  proud  white  beauty  that  she  wanted 
him  not  for  her  lover.  I  hated  her  more  than  ever  at 
the  moment;  to  think  she  so  lightly  cast  away,  as 
though  it  were  '  apukwa,'  a  bullrush,  the  love  I  would 
have  prized  more  than  '  Ketegawn,'  a  blooming  gar- 
den. I  laughed  at  her.  She  besought  me  to  tell  him 


1 7o     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

what  I  knew,  saying,  if  I  did  so,  she  would  pray  God 
to  give  me  much  love.  I  laughed  once  more,  and 
paddled  away.  I  was  resolved  that  the  white  chief 
should  die." 

The  girl  looked  up  into  the  face  of  the  priest.  It 
wore  an  expression  of  grave  compassion  for  the 
storm-tossed  soul  whose  dark  recesses  were  thus 
disclosed  to  him.  The  French  demoiselle  of  whom 
she  spoke  could  be  none  other  than  Angelique 
Cuillerier,  and  from  amid  the  sombreness  of  this  tale 
of  savage  revenge,  Angelique  stood  forth,  sweet,  and 
good,  and  true;  the  trembling,  frightened  Ang61ique, 
who  with  the  terrible  threat  of  Pontiac's  wrath  cold 
at  her  heart  and  still  haunted  by  the  tones  of  his 
voice,  had  yet  ventured  to  come  to  the  mission 
for  counsel,  had  dared  after  all  to  carry  the  news  to 
Gladvvin. 

"  But  the  last  words  of  the  demoiselle  echoed  in 
my  ears,  my  father,"  pursued  the  Indian.  "  I  ceased 
my  charms  and  incantations,  and  prayed  to  the  Great 
Spirit  whom  I  had  forgotten.  The  Master  of  Life 
took  pity  on  me.  He  sent  the  Holy  Virgin  to  me  in 
a  dream.  She  crushed  the  vipers  in  my  heart.  She 
laid  her  hand  upon  my  aching  head,  upon  my  breast. 
The  fire  no  longer  rages  there ;  it  burns  softly  like  the 
flame  of  the  chapel  lamps.  I  have  given  her  my 
heart  to  be  a  votive  offering  like  to  the  hearts  of 
silver  hung  before  the  shrine.  I  awoke  in  sadness, 
knowing  the  love  of  the  white  chief  can  never  be 
mine;  yet  I  resolved  to  go  to  the  fort,  and  tell  him 
all  I  had  learned  of  the  plot." 

"But  you  did  not  go,  my  daughter?"  queried 
Father  Potier. 

The  instinct  of  self-preservation  caused  the  girl 
to  peer  cautiously  around  in  all  directions-  Except 


THE   GREAT   OTTAWA  171 

for  the  twittering  of  the  birds,  the  orchard  was 
absolutely  quiet;  upon  every  side  extended  the  short 
grass  like  a  carpet,  and  she  could  see  beneath  every 
tree.  Craning  her  neck,  she  looked  up  among  the 
fragrant  branches  above  her  head ;  only  the  birds 
and  blossoms  were  there.  Had  an  Indian  been 
lurking  anywhere  about,  she  must  have  discovered 
him. 

Satisfied  that  no  one  was  listening,  she  sprang  to 
her  feet,  and  answered  in  a  tense  whisper,  — 

"  Yes,  Black  Robe,  I  told  the  commandant  all  I 
knew,  and  in  return  he  had  me  thrust  outside  the 
stockade.  There  was  a  great  pain  in  my  heart,  but, 
like  a  bird  singing  in  the  wood,  there  was  with  me 
a  gladness  that  I  had  spoken." 

Catherine,  or  Nedawniss,  then  went  on  to  relate 
how  she  had  been  apprehended,  accused  of  having 
betrayed  the  scheme  of  Pontiac,  and  dragged  before 
Major  Gladwin,  to  be  in  effect  condemned  to  death 
by  the  man  she  loved.  And  how  then,  to  her  amaze- 
ment, the  commandant  had  declared  it  was  not  from 
her  that  he  had  learned  of  the  dark  design  of  Pontiac ; 
and  thereupon  the  Ottawa,  after  beating  her  on  the 
head  with  his  ball  stick,  set  her  free,  despite  the  clamor 
of  the  warriors,  not  daring  to  reck  his  vengeance  upon 
her  after  what  the  commandant  had  said. 

"  To  Major  Gladwin  I  owe  my  life,  Black  Robe," 
she  concluded,  "  but  he  spoke  falsely  to  shield  me. 
It  was  Catherine  the  Ojibwa  who  warned  him,  and 
when  Pontiac  discovers  this  I  shall  be  put  to  death. 
'Twill  be  a  just  punishment  of  my  wickedness;  I 
am  come  to  ask  the  forgiveness  of  the  Master  of 
Life." 

What  a  wild  tale  it  was,  ranging  through  the  gamut 
of  human  passions.  Yet  Father  Potier  could  not 


1 72     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

but  marvel  at  the  victory  the  Indian  girl  had  achieved 
over  her  own  fierce  nature.  He  saw  rewarded,  in 
such  manner  as  earth  could  reward,  his  years  of  patient 
and  often  apparently  fruitless  toil  among  the  savages. 
The  gentle  lessons  of  Christianity  had  triumphed;  in 
a  spirit  of  renunciation  and  atonement  as  sublime 
as  any  he  had  ever  witnessed,  Catherine  the  Ojibwa 
had  not  only  risked  her  life  to  save  a  man  who  did 
not  love  her,  but  was  ready  to  yield  it  up  in  atone- 
ment for  her  sin  of  hatred  and  revenge.  Could  peni- 
tence approach  more  nearly  to  perfection?  The  girl 
must  not  be  permitted  to  sacrifice  herself.  Yet,  on 
the  other  hand,  Angelique's  secret  must  be  carefully 
guarded.  Remorseful  as  Nedawniss  now  was,  should 
passion  once  more  gain  the  mastery  of  her  nature, 
what  might  she  not  do?  If  by  any  chance  her  sus- 
picion should  turn  upon  Cuillerier's  daughter,  might 
she  not  betray  the  girl  to  the  Ottawas? 

"  Catherine,"  began  the  missionary,  "  God  would 
be  angered  were  you  to  throw  away  your  life  and,  I 
doubt  not,  when  this  emotion  is  past  you  will  wish  to 
avail  yourself  of  all  just  means  to  preserve  it.  You 
have  no  right  to  say  that  the  commandant  did  not 
speak  the  truth." 

"  Could  it  have  been  the  demoiselle  who  told  him?  " 
exclaimed  the  Indian  abruptly. 

It  was  a  critical  moment. 

"  You  have  said,  my  child,  that  you  did  not  tell 
the  demoiselle  enough  of  the  plot  to  render  possible 
the  chance  that  she  might  reveal  it,"  observed  the 
priest  quietly. 

"  Then  it  was  Larron !  No,  for  though  he  fawns 
upon  the  English  like  a  tame  fox,  I  believe  he  hates 
them  in  his  heart,"  she  continued.  "  Or  do  you 
think  it  was  Mahigan  the  Ottawa,  my  father?  Ma- 


THE    GREAT    OTTAWA  173 

higan  is  dead.     This  morning  he  fought  with  Wasson 
on  the  bluff,  and  Wasson  stabbed  him." 

"Mahigan  the  Ottawa  is  dead?"  echoed  Father 
Potier.  "  Of  a  surety  they  cannot  say  it  was  not 
Mahigan." 

If  Nedawniss  was  bent  upon  fixing  the  charge 
upon  some  one,  surely  it  would  do  no  great  harm 
to  a  dead  man. 

"  Daughter,  accuse  neither  yourself  nor  any  one 
else  of  this,"  added  the  priest.  "  Pontiac  is  not  like 
to  have  you  again  apprehended.  If  he  does,  show 
him  this  sacred  symbol ;  say  I  gave  it  to  you  and 
bade  you  tell  him  to  send  for  me  before  he  dare 
condemn  you.  Although  not  a  Christian,  he  will 
respect  my  signet,  lest  the  Almighty  God  send  ven- 
geance upon  him." 

As  he  spoke,  the  missionary  took  from  the  breast 
of  his  black  robe  a  crucifix,  which  he  placed  in  the 
hands  of  the  girl. 

"  Now  go,  Catherine,"  he  said ;  "  collect  your 
thoughts,  that  presently  the  peace  which  is  above 
all  earthly  happiness  may  comfort  your  troubled 
heart." 

The  Indian  sped  away  as  silently  as  she  had  come ; 
and  anon,  Monsieur  Potier  saw  her  kneeling  in  devo- 
tion on  the  step  of  the  forest  sanctuary,  as  was  the 
custom  among  her  people. 

Other  women  joined  her  there ;  dusky  children 
and  a  few  braves  followed;  and  soon  old  Brother 
La  Tour  came  out  of  the  mission  house,  and  went 
down  the  walk  to  open  the  door  of  the  chapel. 

Over  the  primeval  woods  the  sun  rose  in  unveiled 
splendor;  the  swivel  gun  upon  the  water  bastion  of 
the  fort  boomed  forth  its  wonted  salute ;  the  drums 
beat  the  reveille,  and,  at  the  same  moment  from  both 


i74     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

shores  of  the  strait,  the  bells  rang  out  the  Resurrexit 
of  the  Easter-tide. 

Father  Potier  uncovered  his  head,  and  repeated  in 
a  low  tone  the  prayer  they  chanted.  Then  he  passed 
beyond  the  orchard,  to  minister  to  his  little  congre- 
gation in  the  rude  log  church. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEENTH 

THE  ENVOYS   OF  PEACE 

A  FEW  hours  later,  while  Father  Potier  invoked 
for  his  Hurons  and  the  neighboring  tribes  an 
abundant  harvest,  on  the  northern  shore  of  Le 
Detroit,  Monsieur  Bocquet,  the  Recollet  cure  of  Ste. 
Anne's,  led  a  procession  of  the  French  over  the 
farms  of  the  "  c6te  du  nord,"  and,  as  is  the  custom 
in  Old  France,  asked  a  blessing  on  the  newly  sown 
seed,  that  it  might  yield  a  thousand-fold. 

Scarcely  had  the  townfolk  returned  from  these 
exercises,  when  the  common  behind  the  fort  was 
again  thronged  with  Indians,  who  had  come  down 
the  river  with  a  fleet  of  canoes.  At  their  head  was 
Pontiac. 

"  Open  the  gates  to  me  and  my  people,"  he  cried 
to  the  sentinels ;  "we  are  come  to  hold  a  great  council 
with  the  white  chiefs.  To  cement  my  friendship 
with  the  English,  I  wish  all  my  warriors  to  smell  the 
smoke  of  the  calumet." 

While  he  gesticulated  and  shouted,  Major  Gladwin 
appeared  at  the  gate,  accompanied  by  La  Butte.' 

"  Tell  the  chief  he  may  enter  with  half  a  score  of 
his  principal  warriors,  but  I  will  not  have  this  red  herd 
inside  the  palisade,"  said  the  officer  to  his  interpreter. 

This  answer  greatly  incensed  the  proud  Ottawa. 

"  And  you,"  he  rejoined,  with  a  threatening  gesture 
toward  the  Frenchman,  "  do  you,  Chesne  La  Butte, 
say  to  the  chief  of  the  redcoats  that  all  my  warriors 


176     THE   HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

are  equal.  Unless  every  one  of  my  followers  is  ad- 
mitted within  the  palisade,  not  one  shall  pass  the 
gate.  Tell  the  white  chief  he  may  stay  in  his  fort, 
if  he  so  wills,  but  I  shall  keep  the  country,  which  be- 
longs to  me,  as  it  belonged  to  my  fathers." 

While  these  momentous  events  were  happening 
before  the  stockade,  at  the  "  c6te  du  nord,"  Angelique 
Cuillerier  was  striving,  as  best  she  could,  to  hide  her 
fears  and  anxiety.  On  her  return  home  she  had 
lamented  to  her  mother  and  Xante  Josette  her  own 
ill-luck  in  having  chosen  a  day  for  her  visit  when 
Madame  des  Ruisseaux  and  Marianne  de  St.  Ours 
were  absent,  and  few  would  have  supposed  that  she 
had  a  thought  in  her  pretty  head  beyond  a  girlish 
petulance  because  her  short  stay  in  the  town  had 
been  stupid  instead  of  gay. 

Antoine  was  neither  in  the  house  nor  around  the 
farm,  and  his  daughter  was  glad  to  learn  that  he 
knew  nothing  of  her  excursion  to  the  fort.  Evi- 
dently he  had  no  wish  to  be  about  when  the  storm 
brewed  by  Pontiac  in  the  magical  seances  of  the 
Metai  should  break  over  Le  Detroit. 

Angelique  was  a  child  of  the  wilderness,  accus- 
tomed to  see  savage  faces  peering  in  at  the  windows, 
and  savage  forms  fling  open  the  house-door  and  stalk, 
unbidden,  across  the  threshold  of  her  home.  She 
realized  what  she  had  done,  and  if  a  dread  of  the 
possible  consequences  to  herself  at  times  appalled 
her,  she  was  not  unnerved  at  the  appearance  of  an 
Indian.  Vivacious  and  ardent  by  nature,  sweet  and 
true-hearted,  she  nevertheless  possessed  the  woman's 
art  of  concealing  her  real  thoughts  and  emotions. 
In  another  age,  and  under  different  circumstances, 
she  would  have  made  a  capital  actress.  As  it  was, 
she  summoned  her  resources  for  a  difficult  r61e. 


THE   ENVOYS    OF   PEACE  177 

She  dared  not  hide  away  in  her  little  nook  under 
the  eaves  ;  she  must  busy  herself  with  cookery.  Who 
so  well  as  Angelique  could  give  the  inviting  shade 
of  golden  brown  to  the  fried  "  poisson  blanc  "  (white 
fish)  or  the  "poisson  dore  "  (pickerel);  who  under- 
stood so  perfectly  the  art  of  roasting  the  toothsome 
"cochon  au  lait"  (sucking  pig)?  Then,  too,  the 
flower  seeds  gathered  in  the  autumn  were  to  be 
planted ;  and  all  this  she  must  do  unconcernedly, 
with  only  such  interest  in  the  fate  of  the  English  as 
a  helpless  shrinking  from  the  spectacle  of  deeds  of 
violence  and  slaughter  would  naturally  awaken  in 
the  breast  of  a  young  woman. 

Three  days  passed  away.  On  that  eventful  Satur- 
day the  demoiselle  had  seen  the  chief  Pontiac  and 
his  sixty  warriors  sweep  back  down  the  river  road 
and  onward  across  Meloche's  bridge,  with  the  fury 
of  a  cyclone,  embark  in  canoes  at  the  mouth  of 
Parant's  run,  and  paddle  with  the  haste  of  rage  to 
the  Ottawa  village  on  the  opposite  side  "of  the  strait. 
From  this  she  knew  they  had  been  baffled  in  their 
scheme  against  the  fort;  the  warning  to  Gladwin 
had  been  given  in  time,  and  her  heart  sent  up  a 
prayer  of  gratitude  to  Heaven  that  the  contemplated 
massacre  had  been  averted. 

Sunday  morning,  with  a  new  ribbon  on  her  bee-hive 
hat,  she  went  to  Mass  at  the  church  of  Ste.  Anne,  for 
the  French  were  still  permitted  to  go  into  the  town 
for  the  services.  Robishe  Navarre  walked  home  with 
her,  and  from  him  she  learned  that  the  French  looked 
forward  to  a  new  era  of  peace  for  Le  Detroit.  The 
next  day  the  sun  shone  bright  upon  the  newly  sown 
fields,  as  though  the  hand  of  God  was  indeed  stretched 
forth  to  bless  them.  Angelique  worked  in  her  gar- 
den with  more  content  than  she  had  known  since  that 

12 


178     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

awful  night  in  the  loft  when  she  had  heard  the  Great 
Chief  talking  to  her  father.  While  vowing  her  harvest 
of  flowers  to  the  good  Ste.  Anne  as  a  thankoffering 
for  the  f£te  of  the  saint  in  July,  she  sang  to  herself 
snatches  of  a  song  brought  by  the  French  across  the 
seas,  even  as  the  stately  pear  tree  whose  praises  she 
rehearsed  had  been  brought  from  a  famous  orchard 
in  Normandy, — 

"  Par  derrier  chez  mon  pere,  — 
Vole  mon  creur,  vole, 
Par  derrier  chez  mon  pere 
I  ya-t-un  pommier  doux, 

Tout  doux, 
I  ya-t-un  pommier. 

"  Les  feuilles  en  sont  vertes,  — 

Vole  mon  coeur,  vole, 

Les  feuilles  en  sont  vertes, 

Et  le  fruit  en  est  doux, 

Tout  doux, 
*  Et  le  fruit  en  est  doux, 

Vole  mon  coeur,  vo  —  " 

As  she  knelt  upon  the  ground,  patting  the  soil 
above  the  seeds  of  her  carnations  and  china  asters  as 
though  they  were  her  little  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
she  was  tucking  them  into  their  soft  beds,  the  girl's 
heart  was  in  truth  ready  to  fly  away  with  happiness, 
to  fly  to  the  lover  whom  she  loved,  whoever  this  for- 
tunate personage  might  be.  But  at  the  last  words  of 
the  chanson  she  rose  to  her  feet,  brushed  the  earth 
from  her  hands  as  a  bird  might  flutter  its  wings,  and, 
tossing  back  her  head,  trolled  the  "vole  mon  coeur" 
with  the  joyousness  of  the  meadow  lark. 

The  final  "  vole,"  however,  died  upon  her  lips,  as 
the  sweet  notes  die  in  the  throat  of  the  lark  when  the 
sportsman's  shot  pierces  its  little  singing  breast.  For 


THE   ENVOYS    OF    PEACE  179 

at  this  moment  there  burst  upon  the  air  of  the  tran- 
quil afternoon  a  horrible  din  and  tumult  from  the 
direction  of  the  fort;  a  whooping  as  of  a  horde  of 
demons  broken  loose.  Running  to  the  river  edge, 
she  looked  toward  the  town.  The  prairie  was  black 
with  people,  who  from  their  yells  must  be  savages. 
Quickly  the  frightened  girl  fled  to  the  house,  where 
she  found  Dame  Cuillerier,  Xante  Josette,  the  chil- 
dren, and  the  Pani  women  as  alarmed  as  herself. 
Until  darkness  came,  the  wild  rejoicings  continued, 
yet  the  habitants  of  the  c6te  remained  in  ignorance 
of  what  had  taken  place. 

All  night  long  from  her  window  in  the  loft  of  the 
Cuillerier  home  Angelique  watched  the  Indian  camp- 
fires  on  the  southern  bank  of  the  river,  and  heard 
with  horror  the  cries  which  proclaimed  that  the  war 
dance  was  being  performed  in  the  Ottawa  village. 
When  toward  morning  she  fell  asleep  upon  a  pelt  on 
the  floor  of  the  dormer,  the  whole  bizarre  picture 
rose  before  her  in  a  dream  as  once  she  saw  it  as  a 
child,  when  carried  into  the  redmen's  camp  by  her 
father. 

Again  she  beheld  the  circle  of  dark  warriors  seated 
upon  their  mats,  and  so  hideous  that  they  looked  the 
incarnate  spirits  of  evil.  She  saw  Pontiac  leap  into  the 
centre  of  the  ring,  waving  his  tomahawk  and  stamp- 
ing upon  the  ground,  as  he  chanted  his  past  exploits, 
and  swore  to  exterminate  the  English.  Now  the 
warriors  closed  in  about  him.  They  caught  his  wild 
mood  ;  one  after  another  joined  in  the  dance,  circling 
round  and  round,  with  fierce  gestures  and  blood- 
curdling yells. 

Crying  aloud,  Angelique  awoke  in  a  tremor  of  fear, 
wishing  she  had  not  closed  her  eyes.  Turning  her 
gaze  once  more  to  the  window,  she  saw  with  dismay 


180     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

that  during  her  sleep,  brief  as  it  was,  a  change  had 
taken  place  in  the  aspect  of  the  banks  of  the  strait. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  Ottawa  village  were  crossing 
the  river,  evidently  with  the  intention  of  erecting  their 
arbor-like  lodges  at  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  hard  by 
the  house  of  Baptiste  Meloche. 

"  Juste  ciel,  so  the  redskins  have  come  to  live 
among  us,"  she  exclaimed  a  quarter  of  an  hour  later, 
as  she  made  her  appearance  in  the  hearthroom,  where 
Dame  Cuillerier  was  directing  a  Pani  woman  in  the 
preparation  of  the  morning  meal. 

"  Yes,  truly,  and  fine  neighbors  they  will  make  for 
the  young  wife  of  Monsieur  Meloche,"  replied  the 
dame,  in  French  of  course.  "  Poor  woman,  she  will 
wish  them  farther  away,  even  though  her  husband 
and  the  chief  are  such  fast  friends." 

While  it  was  still  early,  the  Pani  boys  brought  in 
word  that  the  Indians  were  gathering  in  a  great  horde, 
and  suddenly  a  war-whoop  arose  from  the  plain  and 
re-echoed  from  the  woods  and  waters.  Not  only  the 
Ottawas,  but  the  Pottawattomies,  Ojibwas,  and  dis- 
affected Hurons  had  joined  in  the  assault. 

Angelique  rushed  again  to  the  gate.  The  air  above 
the  fort  was  thick  with  flying  arrows ;  at  intervals  the 
swivel  guns  upon  the  eastern  bastion  with  a  lion-like 
roar  belched  forth  flame  and  sent  their  fiery  balls 
among  the  enemy,  but  with  what  effect  it  was  impos- 
sible to  judge. 

After  some  hours,  the  din  of  the  conflict  ceased, 
and  about  mid-afternoon,  Tante  Josette  descried  three 
masculine  figures  trudging  sturdily  up  the  road. 

"  Madame  !  Angelique !"  she  called,  "  who  are  these 
Frenchmen  coming  from  the  town?" 

In  a  trice  Angelique  was  beside  her,  to  watch  them 
with  her  younger  eyes. 


THE   ENVOYS   OF   PEACE  181 

"They  are  my  sister's  husband,  La  Butte,  Jacques 
Godefroy,  and  Clotilde's  father,  the  old  surgeon,"  she 
announced,  and  straightway  hurried  down  the  garden 
path  to  greet  the  visitors,  with  whom  she  presently 
returned. 

"  Bon  jour,  Madame  Cuillerier,"  began  Major  Cha- 
poton,  "  we  have  come  to  the  c6te  at  the  request  of 
Monsieur  Gladwin  to  arrange  a  peace  with  Pontiac, 
and  we  count  upon  the  help  of  Antoine's  influence 
with  the  Ottawa.  Is  your  good  man  within?" 

"That  he  is  not,  major,"  rejoined  la  bonne  mere, 
in  a  tone  that  said  she  highly  disapproved  the  ab- 
sence of  her  spouse.  "  He  took  his  gun  yesterday, 
and  went  into  the  woods  after  saying  he  did  not  know 
how  long  he  would  be  away.  But  be  seated,  mon- 
sieur, and  you  also,  La  Butte  and  friend  Godefroy. 
How  is  Dame  Clotilde?  The  'petit  enfant'  is  thriv- 
ing, I  am  sure  !  Plain  have  I  seen  in  him  from  the 
first  a  look  of  his  grandsire,  although  one  can  tell  at 
a  glance,  too,  that  he  is  Jacques  Godefroy's  boy." 

"  Thanks,  dame,  but  I  fear  we  cannot  delay,"  pro- 
tested Godefroy  awkwardly,  as  their  hostess  rattled  on. 

A  peculiar  smile  flitted  over  the  countenance  of 
Madame  Cuillerier. 

"  Since  when,  neighbor,  have  you  been  so  zealous 
a  friend  of  the  strangers  ?  "  she  queried  mockingly. 

"  A  friend  to  them  I  am  not  at  all,  madame,"  he 
answered,  with  vehemence.  "  It  is  because  I  could 
not  abide  the  atrocities  of  the  savages  yesterday 
that  you  see  me  willing  to  essay  the  part  of  peace- 
maker." 

"  What  led  to  the  attack  upon  the  fort  this  morn- 
ing?" interposed  Tante  Josette.  "We  know  only 
that  when  Pontiac  visited  Major  Gladwin,  he  took 
from  his  speech  bag  a  belt  of  white  wampum  and  pre- 


182     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

sented  it  to  the  commandant.  Thereat  Major  Glad- 
win  was  angered,  and,  catching  hold  of  the  bag,  drew 
from  it  a  red  wampum  belt,  whose  presence  there  was 
a  token  understood  among  his  warriors  that  the  white 
belt  meant  war,  and  not  peace." 

"  Eh  bien,  you  have  the  gist  of  the  matter,"  said 
La  Butte.  "  To-day  the  redmen  set  fire  to  the  hut 
of  the  English  woman  who  pastured  her  cows  and 
sold  milk  upon  the  common.  Having  murdered  her, 
together  with  her  two  sons,  they  went  to  the  Isle  au 
Cochon  and  slew  the  settler  Fisher  and  his  wife ;  you 
know  them,  —  he  was,  awhile  since,  sergeant  at 
the  fort.  The  woman  they  would  have  spared,  't  is 
said,  for  she  was  young  and  comely,  but  she  piteously 
bewailed  the  death  of  her  husband,  and  almost  thrust 
herself  beneath  their  tomahawks." 

"  A  strange  tale  is  being  repeated,  too,"  chimed  in 
Godefroy,  in  an  awed  undertone,  as  he  crossed  him- 
self and  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  as  if  he  half 
expected  to  behold  an  apparition  standing  behind 
him.  "  Pettier,  who  lives  across  the  strait  and  is 
married  to  an  Ottawa  woman,  —  Pettier  went  over 
to  the  island,  hastily  buried  the  dead,  took  the  two 
children  to  the  fort,  and  gave  their  nurse-maid  as  a 
servant  to  his  squaw.  Later,  going  again  to  the 
place,  with  horror  he  beheld  the  hands  of  the  mur- 
dered man  thrust  out  of  the  earth,  as  though  in 
entreaty.  He  covered  them,  but  when  he  returned 
past  the  spot  they  were  once  more  thrust  forth. 
Then  he  knew  the  poor  wretch  was  pleading  for 
Christian  burial,  so  in  great  fear  he  went  and  brought 
Father  Potier,  who  blessed  the  grave,  and  now  the 
unfortunate  farmer  rests  in  peace." 

This  gruesome  history  was  received  by  the  women 
with  expressions  of  consternation. 


THE    ENVOYS   OF   PEACE  183 

"  That  is  not  all,"  said  Major  Chapoton.  "  Des- 
noyer  brought  in  news  this  morning  that  the  savages 
have  slain  the  English  officers  who  went  up  to  the 
river  Ste.  Claire  to  sound  for  a  channel  deep  enough 
to  permit  them  to  send  their  schooner  up  to  Michili- 
mackinac.  Also,  the  Sauteurs  from  the  shores  of 
the  Bay  of  Saginaw  are  on  the  war-path,  and  com- 
ing to  join  Pontiac.  I  love  the  English  no  better 
than  my  friend  Godefroy  here;  but  since  we  are 
bound  to  keep  peace  with  them,  I  think  it  the  part  of 
honorable  Frenchmen  to  prevent  their  being  mas- 
sacred. Moreover,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Ange- 
lique,  "  mademoiselle,  you  know  the  White  Fawn, 
the  adopted  child  of  the  Cabaciers  at  the  red  mill 
below  the  fort,  the  maiden  who  has  so  captivated 
Captain  Campbell  that  he  is  minded  to  marry  her  not- 
withstanding her  dash  of  Indian  blood?" 

"  Yes,  yes ;  as  sweet  a  demoiselle  as  any  to  be 
found  at  Le  Detroit.  And  she  has  given  her  heart 
to  the  captain,  too,"  responded  Mademoiselle  Cuil- 
lerier.  "  I  would  almost  forget  she  is  of  the  Indian 
race,  she  is  so  fair,  and  so  well  taught  in  thrifty 
ways  by  Dame  Cabacier." 

"  There  is  one  who  has  not  forgotten  her  Ottawa 
blood,"  replied  the  surgeon  sadly  ;  "  the  chief  Was- 
son,  who  wanted  her  for  his  bride.  Enraged  that  the 
White  Fawn  would  not  accept  his  savage  love,  he 
turned  his  anger  against  the  maiden.  This  morning 
she  was  found  on  the  prairie,  killed  by  an  Indian 
tomahawk.  Wasson  is  named  as  the  assassin,  and 
it  is  said  he  alleges  't  was  she  who  thwarted  the 
design  of  Pontiac  by  revealing  to  her  lover  the  plot 
whereby  the  Ottawa  hoped  to  gain  possession  of  the 
fort" 

Angelique  could  not  repress  a  start,  and  the  color 


1 84     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

faded  from  her  face.  Had  Mathurine  died  for  this, 
when  she,  Angelique  Cuillerier,  alone  was  guilty? 
She"  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  for  before  her 
mind's  eye  rose  the  picture  of  the  White  Fawn  lying 
dead  upon  the  meadow. 

"The  Sauteur  strove  but  to  justify  himself;  he 
knew  the  girl  was  ignorant  of  Pontiac's  scheme,"  said 
La  Butte,  ascribing  Angelique's  pallor  to  womanly 
pity.  "  It  is  thought,  however,  that  when  attacked, 
she  was  on  her  way  to  the  fort  to  warn  Captain 
Campbell  to  beware  of  Wasson.  Thus  she  may  be 
said  to  have  died  to  save  her  lover.  Indian  maidens 
have  placed  caged  birds  to  mark  the  spot  where  she 
already  lies  beneath  the  flower-dotted  sod  of  the 
prairie,  birds  to  be  released  with  kisses  and  caresses 
by  these  forest  sisters  when  they  begin  to  sing,  that, 
winging  their  way  to  the  spirit  land,  they  may  bear 
with  them  the  soul  of  la  jolie  Mathurine." 

"  Eh  bien,  my  friends,  we  must  be  going,"  declared 
Major  Chapoton,  starting  to  his  feet. 

Madame  Cuillerier  had  scarce  begun  to  lament 
anew  the  absence  of  her  lord,  when  who  should 
stride  in  through  the  house-door  but  Antoine  him- 
self. After  some  demur,  he  agreed  to  accompany 
the  party,  and  they  set  out  forthwith. 

Two  hours  later  the  three  envoys  returned  with 
Antoine.  La  bonne  mere,  with  the  assistance  of  her 
slave  women,  had  ready  for  them  an  excellent  supper, 
and  Angelique  helped  Tante  Josette  to  wait  upon  the 
guests,  according  to  the  French-Canadian  custom. 
While  thus  flitting  about,  she  gathered  from  the  con- 
versation that  Pontiac  had  replied  by  fair  messages 
to  the  commandant,  and  sent  a  splendid  peace-pipe 
to  Captain  Campbell,  asking  him  to  go  to  the  Indian 
camp  and  treat  with  him  and  his  warriors. 


THE    ENVOYS    OF    PEACE  185 

But  although  Godefroy,  La  Butte,  and  the  old  sur- 
geon were  in  high  spirits  over  the  success  of  their 
mission,  the  demoiselle  noted  that  Cuillerier  took 
little  part  in  the  clamor  of  their  Creole  voices.  Did  he 
know  this  plan  to  be  another  subterfuge?  She  could 
not  believe  so.  She  remembered  how,  during  Pon- 
tiac's  midnight  visit  to  the  hearthroom,  her  heart  had 
thrilled  with  sympathy  for  the  redmen,  as  the  Great 
Chief  told  of  their  wrongs.  But  again  she  saw  the 
astute  savage  obtaining  a  mastery  over  the  mind  of 
Antoine  by  his  flatteries  and  false  promises,  lulling 
his  conscience  even  as  a  snake  charms  and  deadens 
the  will  power  of  its  victim,  and  coils  itself  about 
the  unhappy  man,  for  whom  there  is  then  no  escape. 
No ;  Pontiac  was  not  sincere  in  his  apparent  readiness 
to  cement  a  peace.  What  was  that?  The  Ottawa 
had  appointed  this  very  house  as  the  place  for  the 
meeting  between  the  warriors  and  Captain  Campbell. 
Pontiac  wished  to  make  a  tool  of  her  father.  But  he 
should  not;  no,  clever  as  he  was,  she,  a  girl,  must 
once  more  try  to  outwit  him.  She  would  take  cour- 
age ;  had  she  not  heard  Father  Potier  say  that  God 
sometimes  sets  the  weak  to  confound  the  strong? 


CHAPTER  FIFTEENTH 

A  NOBLE   GENTLEMAN 

"1\  yTY  head  is  heavy,  and  the  air  of  the  room 
•IVJ.  stifles  me.  I  will  go  out  and  walk  in  the 
twilight,"  whispered  Angelique  to  Tante  Josette. 

As  she  slipped  away,  "  cette  chere  tante "  and 
Dame  Cuillerier  exchanged  glances  of  smiling  sig- 
nificance. Perchance  Jasmin  de  Joncaire  awaited  a 
t6te-a-t^te  with  the  demoiselle  upon  the  strand;  or 
mayhap,  if  Robishe  Navarre  was  able  to  get  outside 
the  stockade,  he  had  come  in  his  canoe  to  take  her 
upon  the  river. 

The  two  older  women  had  noticed  with  satisfaction 
that  of  late  the  young  Frenchmen  were  again  in 
favor.  Gladwin  was  not  liked  in  the  Cuillerier  house- 
hold ;  and  though  the  Scotchman,  James  Sterling,  at 
one  time  stood  in  the  good  graces  of  "  la  bonne  mere," 
the  latter  acknowledged  that  she  would  prefer  for  a 
second  son-in-law  a  man  bred  in  New  France,  as  was 
La  Butte,  the  husband  of  her  older  daughter.  There- 
fore, when  Tante  Josette  repeated  to  her  the  girl's 
excuse,  she  answered,  — 

"  '  La  pauvre  petite,'  no  wonder  her  feelings  are 
overwrought  after  the  dreadful  tales  we  have  heard 
this  day.  The  evening  air  will  soothe  her,  and  if  a 
neighbor's  son  appears  to  turn  her  thoughts  to  other 
themes,  so  much  the  better." 

Meanwhile  Angelique  had  passed  beyond  the  pali- 
sade that  surrounded  the  house,  and,  avoiding  the 


A   NOBLE    GENTLEMAN  187 

river  road,  had  entered  upon  a  by-path  leading 
through  the  fields.  At  first  she  strolled  as  if  aim- 
lessly, but,  when  well  away  from  the  vicinity  of  her 
home,  screened  by  the  deepening  twilight,  she 
began  to  run.  True,  she  was  a  French  girl,  and  the 
Indians  were  friendly  with  her  people,  yet  she  knew 
well  that  when  the  fighting  spirit  of  the  savage  is 
aroused,  there  is  no  telling  against  whom  it  may  next 
turn.  At  any  moment  a  dark  form  might  spring  up 
from  the  long  dry  grass  of  the  prairie,  which  had  re- 
mained uncut  for  many  seasons;  a  relentless  hand 
with  knife  or  tomahawk  might  mete  out  to  her  the 
fate  of  the  gentle  White  Fawn.  If  there  had  been 
time  to  consider  all  this,  perchance  her  resolution 
might  have  failed.  But  a  woman  is  brave  by  impulse ; 
hers  is  not  the  calm,  cool  intrepidity  of  the  mind,  but 
rather  the  ardent  courage  of  the  heart,  —  a  courage 
which  finds  its  strength  in  self-forgetfulness. 

One  thought  possessed  the  brain  of  Angelique  as 
she  ran  on,  faster  and  faster,  for  by  this  time  La 
Butte,  Godefroy,  and  Major  Chapoton  must  have 
started  on  their  return  to  the  fort.  She  must  arrive 
before  them  with  her  warning,  otherwise  Captain 
Campbell  misled  by  their  representations,  false, 
although  offered  in  all  sincerity,  would  go  out  with 
them  to  meet  Pontiac  on  the  "  c6te  du  nord-est." 
Now  she  was  almost  at  the  stockade;  the  lights 
in  the  houses  of  the  town  glowed  softly  beyond 
the  pickets.  Suddenly  she  stopped  short  and 
hid  behind  a  bush ;  she  had  caught  the  sound  of 
some  one  approaching.  Was  it  an  Indian?  Her 
heart  seemed  to  stand  still  with  apprehension.  In 
another  moment  a  stalwart  soldierly  figure  strode  past 
her  place  of  concealment,  and  she  recognized  Cap- 
tain Campbell  himself. 


188    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

He  was  walking  with  head  bowed  and  arms  folded 
across  his  breast,  his  whole  air  betokening  a  deep  de- 
jection, all  the  more  marked  in  one  usually  light- 
hearted  and  genial.  An  exclamation  rose  to  her  lips. 
He  looked  up  quickly,  and  his  hand  mechanically 
went  to  his  sword.  But  when  she  stepped  out  from 
behind  the  laurel  shrub,  he  dropped  the  blade  again 
into  its  scabbard,  and  fell  back  a  pace  or  two. 

It  happened  that  the  girl  wore  a  frock  of  light- 
colored  cotton  stuff,  which  in  the  dusk  looked  white, 
and  gave  her  perhaps  an  unearthly  appearance  as  she 
arose  thus  in  his  path.  Did  he  think  her  the  spirit 
of  the  White  Fawn,  come  to  soothe  and  comfort  his 
grief  over  her  loss? 

Angelique  stood  motionless.  With  two  or  three 
strides  he  was  beside  her. 

"  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier,"  he  ejaculated,  in  aston- 
ishment, "  why,  how  is  it  that  you  are  wandering 
alone  on  the  prairie?  Are  you  bound  for  the  fort  to 
visit  your  aunt?  The  sentinels  have  been  forbidden 
to  let  any  of  the  French  go  in  or  out,  but  I  will  pass 
you  and  give  you  a  written  order  that  will  enable  you 
to  return  to  the  c6te  when  you  choose." 

"  No,  Captain  Campbell,  I  am  not  going  to  the  town. 
It  is  for  your  sake  I  am  come,  to  caution  you  before 
it  is  too  late,"  she  faltered. 

"  For  my  sake  ?  "  he  repeated  sadly. 

"Yes,  my  good  friend." 

Thereupon  she  told  him  of  the  envoys  who  had  re- 
turned in  high  feather  from  Pontiac's  camp,  because 
they  had  been  asked  to  bring  the  captain  to  the  Cuil- 
lerier hcTuse  that  evening  to  treat  with  the  warriors. 

"  Ha,  I  have  always  had  the  good  will  of  the  red- 
men,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  with  a  dash  of  his  old 
spirit,  "  except  indeed  of  the  black-hearted  Wasson." 


A   NOBLE    GENTLEMAN  189 

He  clenched  his  hands,  and  his  face  hardened.  "  I 
shall  be  rejoiced  to  extricate  the  gallant  Major  Glad- 
win  from  an  awkward  predicament." 

"No,  no,  you  must  not  listen  to  the  envoys,"  en- 
treated Angelique.  "  Like  many  others,  monsieur,  I 
look  for  the  time  when  the  fleur-de-lis  will  wave 
again  over  the  stockade  yonder.  But,  I  said  to  my- 
self, this  good  Captain  Campbell  has  ever  been 
pleasant  and  kind  to  me.  He  has  not  been  harsh 
either  to  the  French  or  the  Indians  ;  the  Ottawa  chief 
will  cheat  my  father  and  his  friends;  he  will  cheat 
you,  monsieur  le  capitaine.  I  am  only  a  foolish 
demoiselle,  but  I  feel  this  in  my  heart." 

With  grateful  emotion  Campbell  heard  the  plead- 
ings of  the  girl,  who  had  come  alone  across  the 
prairie  to  put  him  on  his  guard. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  a  bit  unsteadily,  "  from 
my  soul  I  thank  you  for  your  brave  friendship  which 
led  you  at  the  risk  of  danger  to  yourself  to  come  to 
tell  me  this.  I  shall  always  remember  it  with  the  live- 
liest gratitude.  But  a  soldier  must  take  chances  of 
peril  in  order  to  achieve  important  ends." 

"  Oh,  do  not  go  to  the  council,"  she  persisted,  in 
excitement.  "  If  you  do,  it  will  be  but  to  fling  away 
your  life." 

"  Again  I  thank  you,"  he  returned,  and  presently 
added,  with  fierce  bitterness,  "  My  life  !  What  if 
Pontiac  and  his  warriors  do  take  it  ?  Have  they  not 
deprived  me  of  the  only  object  that  could  make  a 
continued  existence  in  this  desolate  country  tolerable 
to  me  ?  Condemned  by  military  duty  to  spend  my 
best  years  in  the  wilderness,  I  sought  to  conciliate 
its  wild  inhabitants,  and  also  to  make  friends  of  the 
gentle  little  creatures  of  the  forest;  the  hares  and 
squirrels,  the  birds  and  young  fawns.  This  was  no 


i9o     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

pursuit  for  a  soldier,  perhaps,  but  sometimes  a  soldier 
wearies  of  strife  and  wars  ;  because  of  the  very  stern- 
ness of  his  trade  he  loves  the  relaxations  of  peace. 

"  One  day  in  the  early  autumn,  passing  down  by 
the  Spring  Wells,  I  was  overtaken  by  a  heavy  storm. 
During  the  rain,  the  thunder  roared  like  a  battery  of 
artillery,  the  lightning  played  about  me.  With  a 
crash  it  felled  a  tree,  not  many  rods  from  where  I 
walked  upon  the  open  plain.  The  next  thing  I  knew 
a  white  man  was  bending  over  me.  Before  many 
minutes  I  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  seek  with  him 
the  shelter  of  his  home,  the  red  mill.  By  the  hearth- 
fire  stood  a  girl,  the  embodiment  of  the  mysterious, 
captivating  beauty  of  this  region.  Her  appealing 
hazel  eyes,  the  brown  tint  of  her  hair,  showed  that  she 
was  a  child  of  New  France ;  only  the  deep  flush  of 
her  cheek  proclaimed  her  also  a  daughter  of  the 
forest.  After  that  day,  I  often  went  to  the  red  mill. 
My  heart  was  stirred  by  Mathurine's  shy  welcome.  I 
grew  to  love  her.  At  first  I  thought  only  of  how 
her  timid  affection  cheered  my  solicitude.  I  had 
always  fancied  my  bride  would  be  some  sweet 
English  girl.  Yet,  what  woman  accustomed  to  the 
comforts  of  civilization  would  be  content  in  this  re- 
mote place,  even  were  she  willing  to  follow  me  here  ? 
A  French  girl  would  be  too  loyal  to  the  fleur-de-lis  to 
love  an  Englishman.  But  the  White  Fawn,  whose 
heart  was  pure  as  the  forest  spring,  I  would  make  her 
my  wife  and  find  happiness  in  her  caresses.  Forgive 
me,  mademoiselle,  I  have  taxed  your  patience  with 
this  tale,  but  you  have  a  warm  heart,  and  when  a  man 
is  stricken  with  affliction,  the  sympathy  of  a  good 
woman  soothes  and  strengthens  him." 

Without  speaking,  Angelique  impulsively  laid  her 
firm  young  hand  for  a  moment  on  the  captain's  arm. 


A   NOBLE    GENTLEMAN  191 

She  had  often  said  to  herself  that  it  was  well  to  be 
neighborly  with  the  strangers,  and  no  great  harm  to 
coquet  with  them  a  little ;  but  to  marry  among  them 
would  not  be  fitting  for  a  Cuillerier  de  Beaubien,  a 
niece  of  the  commandant  De  Bellestre.  Neverthe- 
less, she  knew  of  more  than  one  pretty  Canadienne 
of  Le  Detroit  who  would  have  listened  kindly  to  the 
suit  of  the  agreeable  captain.  Still,  no  doubt  pretty 
Mathurine  of  the  mill  would  have  pleased  him  best, 
and  Angelique  was  conscious  of  a  deep  pity  for  the 
strong  man  who  was  withal  so  kind,  and  who  had 
loved  the  White  Fawn  with  so  tender  and  honorable 
a  love. 

"  But,"  he  went  on,  "  you  have  heard,  mademoi- 
selle, how  the  Sauteur  chief  dared  to  raise  his  eyes 
to  Mathurine,  thinking  to  make  her  his  squaw  and 
drag  her  down  to  savagery  ?  How,  because  she 
would  not  heed  his  wooing,  he  murdered  her  upon 
the  prairie  ?  " 

The  captain  broke  off  abruptly —  almost  overcome. 

"  As  Wasson  killed  the  White  Fawn,  so  he  would 
destroy  you,  monsieur  le  capitaine,"  faltered  An- 
gelique. 

"  Whatever  comes,  I  must  meet  the  warriors  to- 
night," rejoined  Campbell  steadfastly.  "  If  this  Sau- 
teur is  there,  I  will  charge  him  with  the  murder  of 
the  girl,  who  traced  her  lineage  from  the  tribe  of 
Pontiac.  I  will  demand  of  the  chief  the  punish- 
ment of  this  criminal  in  the  name  of  his  own  nation. 
He  dare  not  refuse  it.  As  for  myself,  I  am  willing  to 
lay  down  my  life  if  to  do  so  would  insure  the  suprem- 
acy of  the  standard  of  St.  George  over  Fort  Pont- 
chartrain.  Mademoiselle,  I  need  not  ask  you  to 
pardon  the  loyalty  of  a  soldier  to  his  cause." 

Angelique  saw  with  dismay  that  she  could  not  dis- 


i92    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

suade  him  from  this  desperate  expedition.  His  last 
words,  moreover,  aroused  in  her  the  antagonism  of 
her  people  against  the  conquerors,  and  she  was  about 
to  make  a  sharp  retort  when  the  sound  of  voices  an- 
nounced the  approach  of  a  number  of  men  along  the 
river  road. 

"  Listen !  "  she  cried,  with  a  finger  on  her  lips. 

"  That  is  Jacques  Godefroy,"  said  the  captain 
carelessly. 

"  Yes,"  whispered  the  girl,  "  the  envoys  are  coming 
now.  I  beg  you  once  more,  do  not  go  with  them." 

For  answer,  the  captain  took  her  hands  in  his, 
and  pressed  them  in  thankfulness  for  the  service 
she  sought  to  render  him.  But  as  she  hurried  away 
across  the  prairie,  he  shook  his  head,  and  walked 
toward  the  road  to  meet  the  Frenchman. 

Major  Gladwin  was  reluctant  that  his  first  officer 
should  go  to  treat  with  Pontiac. 

Unfortunately,  the  garrison  depended  largely  on 
the  Indian  hunters  for  their  supplies  of  meats;  the 
stores  sent  from  Niagara  were  getting  low,  the  fort 
was  in  no  condition  to  stand  the  threatened  siege. 
He  therefore  at  last  yielded  his  consent,  and  the  cap- 
tain set  out,  accompanied  by  a  junior  officer,  Lieu- 
tenant McDougal,  and  attended  by  La  Butte,  Major 
Chapoton,  and  Godefroy. 

As  they  passed  through  the  town,  Robishe  Navarre, 
who  had  come  in  from  the  c6te,  hailed  the  party,  and 
said  to  Campbell,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  Monsieur, 
I  pray  you  to  abandon  this  enterprise ;  even  though 
Pontiac  may  be  acting  in  good  faith,  I  doubt  if  he 
can  control  his  warriors." 

But  the  fearless  captain,  whose  spirit  chafed  like 
that  of  the  war  horse  at  the  scent  of  battle,  laughed 


A   NOBLE   GENTLEMAN  193 

caution  to  the  winds,  and  passed  on  with  the  others 
in  the  direction  of  Cuillerier's  house.  As  they  drew 
nearer  to  the  Indian  camp,  however,  he  realized  that 
he  had  been  overrash,  for  a  band  of  savages  sprang 
up  the  steep  bluff  from  the  strand  below,  where  they 
had  landed  from  canoes,  and  attacked  the  party. 
This,  assuredly,  would  have  been  an  end  of  the  expe- 
dition, had  not  the  commanding  form  of  Pontiac  at 
that  moment  loomed  up  out  of  the  darkness. 

In  the  tone  of  one  who  would  brook  no  resistance 
of  his  authority,  he  ordered  the  braves  to  fall  back, 
and  they  forthwith  slunk  away,  like  curs,  before  the 
lash  of  the  master. 

"  The  English  chief  is  come  ;  it  is  well,"  he  said, 
saluting  the  captain  with  stately  dignity.  "  Pontiac 
will  hold  the  redmen  in  check ;  the  chief  and  his 
friends  may  go  on  in  safety  to  the  place  of  the 
council." 

When  the  officers  with  their  companions  arrived  at 
the  house  of  Cuillerier,  they  were  greeted  by  the 
latter  with  an  elaborate  show  of  courtesy.  So  droll 
was  his  appearance  that  at  another  time  the  genial 
captain  would  have  burst  out  a-laughing,  for  Antoine 
was  arrayed  in  his  parti-colored  finery,  as  Angelique 
had  once  seen  him,  and  looked  not  unlike  a  tame 
domestic  fowl  dyed  and  tricked  out  in  bright  plu- 
mage to  imitate  the  bird  of  paradise. 

Scarcely  were  the  party  seated  when  a  door,  lead- 
ing to  the  pantry,  was  thrown  open  and  a  Pani  woman 
entered  with  a  tray  of  pewter  mugs,  each  filled  to  the 
brim  with  home-brewed  beer.  After  her  came  An- 
gelique with  a  flagon ;  and,  beset  as  he  was  by  serious 
anxieties,  Captain  Campbell  started  when  he  saw  her. 

"  Zounds,  the  girl  must  have  run  all  the  way 
home,"  he  said  to  himself. 


I94    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

Such  was  indeed  the  case,  yet  being  an  hour  In 
advance,  she  had  gained  time  to  compose  herself. 
If  the  color  glowed  in  her  round  cheeks  more  richly 
than  usual,  she  showed  in  no  other  way  that  she  had 
fled  swiftly  as  a  hare  across  the  prairie. 

With  a  gay  laugh,  and  a  word  of  pleasantry  for 
every  one,  she  passed  around,  refilling  the  cup  of  each 
man  from  the  flagon. 

After  a  few  moments,  Antoine  turned  from  Mr. 
Campbell  to  duly  impress  the  young  lieutenant  with 
the  dignity  of  the  Bourgeois  Cuillerier  of  Le  Detroit. 

Angelique  seized  upon  the  opportunity  to  exchange 
a  few  words  with  the  captain. 

"  Why  did  you  come?  "  she  said  reproachfully. 

He  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders,  a  gesture 
learned  from  the  French. 

"  I  shall  pray  that  no  harm  may  follow  your  ob- 
stinacy," she  continued,  holding  high  the  flagon  to 
screen  her  features,  as  she  poured  the  simple  brew 
for  him  slowly.  "  It  may  be  that  all  danger  is 
averted,  for  Father  Potier  has  brought  back  to  their 
senses  the  most  tractable  of  the  Hurons  by  refusing 
them  the  sacraments  if  they  lend  their  aid  to  any 
outbreak." 

Having  given  him  this  information,  she  passed  on, 
and  presently  disappeared  from  the  room.  Before 
long  Pontiac  arrived,  with  his  principal  chiefs,  Maka- 
tepelicite,  Panigwun,  Chavoinon,  Ninivois,  chief  of  the 
Foxes,  and  Takee,  of  the  bad  band  of  Hurons.  At 
once  the  gray  eyes  of  Captain  Campbell  swept  over 
the  group,  and  involuntarily  he  half  drew  his  rapier. 
Wasson  the  Sauteur  was  not  with  them,  however. 

And  now  occurred  a  most  extraordinary  proceed- 
ing. Two  young  braves  placed  an  armchair  on  the 
table,  and,  mounting  upon  the  board,  Antoine  Cuil- 


A   NOBLE   GENTLEMAN  195 

lerier  seated  himself  therein.  In  his  tawdry  state  he 
looked  a  farcical  representation  of  authority.  Never- 
theless, the  Indians  saluted  him  with  respect. 

The  two  officers,  Major  Chapoton,  La  Butte,  and 
Godefroy  stood  at  one  side  of  the  dark  fireplace, 
wherein  lay  a  heap  of  cold  ashes.  In  the  lamps  the 
cotton  wicks,  floating  in  bear's  oil,  smoked  and  flared 
fitfully.  It  was  a  bizarre  and  cheerless  picture. 

Stepping  out  from  among  his  followers,  Pontiac 
opened  his  blanket  in  token  of  salutation  of  the  as- 
sembly, and  began  to  speak. 

"  Blue-Coat,"  he  said,  addressing  Cuillerier,  with  a 
deference  that  had  in  it  a  suspicion  of  irony,  "you 
are  the  father  of  Le  Detroit  until  the  King  of  France 
sends  Monsieur  de  Bellestre  back  to  us.  I  and  my 
warriors  say  before  you,  then,  that  the  lands  of  the 
strait  belong  not  to  the  English,  nor  to  the  French, 
but  to  the  redman,  as  they  belonged  to  his  fathers. 
The  French  are  our  brothers,  and  we  will  share  with 
them  as  they  share  with  us ;  but  the  English  must 
take  to  their  ships  and  go  away,  leaving  their  guns 
and  provisions  for  us,  and  the  fort  to  the  French.  I, 
Pontiac,  have  spoken  for  myself  and  for  the  chiefs  of 
all  the  nations  from  the  Sleeping  Bear  to  the  land  of 
the  Delawares." 

When  the  Ottawa  leader  had  finished,  little  Cuil- 
lerier hopped  down  from  his  perch  and  seized  the 
hand  of  Captain  Campbell  with  a  cordial  grip. 

"  Je  vous  fais  mes  compliments,  monsieur  le  capi- 
taine,  and  to  you  also,  monsieur  le  lieutenant,"  he 
added,  turning  to  McDougal.  "  You  have  heard  the 
Great  Chief,  Pontiac.  He  has  shown  you  the  way 
out  of  the  difficulty.  Is  it  not  so?  Ah,  I  treated  for 
you  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  je  serais  diplomat, 
n'est-ce  pas? 


196    THE    HEROINE    OF    THE    STRAIT 

"  The  wrath  of  the  Indians  smouldered  like  a  hid- 
den fire.  It  threatened  to  break  forth  in  a  terrible 
flame,  like  the  conflagrations  that  sometimes  sweep 
over  the  prairies.  But  I,  messieurs,  I  poured  oil 
on  the  troubled  waters,"  continued  Antoine,  getting 
hopelessly  confused  in  his  metaphors.  "  I  dared  not 
expect  my  friend  Pontiac  to  be  so  lenient.  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  sail  away  peaceably,  —  to  go  down 
to  the  Lake  of  the  English,1  or  even  to  Montreal,  if 
you  will." 

"  I  thank  you,  Mr.  Cuillerier,  for  whatever  good 
offices  you  have  done  myself  and  my  compatriots," 
rejoined  Captain  Campbell,  scarcely  able  to  repress 
a  grim  smile.  "  But  you  do  not  know  the  English 
well  if  you  think  they  will  so  readily  abandon  what 
they  have  won  in  a  fair  fight.  The  soldiers  of  his 
Majesty  George  the  Third  never  retreat,  sir." 

"  Bah !  "  exclaimed  the  little  habitant,  in  disap- 
pointment, as  he  snapped  his  fingers  in  the  face  of 
the  officer.  "  Your  foolish  old  King  must  be  crazier 
even  than  they  say,  if  he'd  have  his  people  scalped 
rather  than  surrender  a  rotting  stockade  in  the  wilder- 
ness. As  for  retreating,  ma  foi,"  he  added,  with  a 
gleam  of  prophetic  insight,  dropping  from  the  French 
into  a  dialect  which  he  considered  to  be  the  Eng- 
lish tongue,  "  eef  'ees  foolish  Majestee's  redcoats 
go  not  now,  still  will  Antoine  Cuillerier  see  them 
fly  away  queek  enough  from  Le  Detroit,  un  jour; 
oui,  sans  doubt.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  " 

Campbell  disdained  a  reply  to  what  he  considered 
a  preposterous  prediction,  but,  turning  to  Pontiac 
and  his  warriors,  he  answered  them  with  soldierly 
frankness  and  dignity,  — 

"  Chief  of  the  Ottawas,  you  and  your  braves  have 

i  Ontario. 


A   NOBLE    GENTLEMAN  197 

done  well  to  trust  in  my  wish  to  deal  fairly  with 
you,"  he  said.  "  It  is  well  that  you  and  the  English 
should  be  friends.  The  English  need  the  pelts  and 
venison  obtained  by  your  hunters,  while  you  need 
the'  hatchets,  knives,  guns,  and  cloth  which  we  bring 
to  the  strait.  What  would  you  do  without  them, 
now  that  you  are  used  to  them?  You  would  suffer 
and  die.  Is  it  not  better  to  be  at  peace  with  those 
who  bring  you  weapons  and  clothing?  The  King 
of  France  has  forgotten  you.  Without  our  consent, 
the  French  can  bring  you  nothing." 

The  words  of  the  captain  were  not  without  effect. 
The  chiefs  took  counsel  among  themselves,  and  pres- 
ently Pontiac  put  to  him  questions  regarding  cer- 
tain points  that  he  desired  to  have  specified  in  the 
treaty. 

"  Not  being  commandant  of  the  fort,  I  cannot  de- 
cide upon  these  matters,"  replied  the  captain.  "  Since 
it  is  growing  late,  I  and  my  companion  will  return 
to  the  stockade.  I  will  explain  to  Major  Gladwin 
the  terms  you  desire,  and  to-morrow  I  will  bring  you 
his  answer." 

So  saying,  he  strode  across  the  room  to  depart,  and 
Lieutenant  McDougal  followed. 

But  Pontiac  interposed  his  powerful  figure  between 
them  and  the  door. 

"  That  cannot  be,"  he  said  in  his  French  patois. 
"  My  father  will  sleep  to-night  in  the  lodges  of  his 
red  children." 

With  a  calmness  which  compelled  the  admiration 
of  his  captors,  the  gallant  captain  drew  back,  and 
the  junior  officer  strove  to  emulate  his  imperturba- 
bility. Nevertheless,  despite  the  information  Camp- 
bell had  received,  it  was  with  amazement  that  they 
found  themselves  prisoners, 


198    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

The  captain  shot  an  angry  glance  of  inquiry  at 
Cuillerier.  The  latter  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
spread  out  his  hands  in  Gallic  fashion,  as  though  to  say 
he  was  not  to  blame ;  he  had  done  what  he  could. 

From  him  Campbell  looked  toward  the  other  French- 
men. Surprise  and  genuine  chagrin  were  depicted  upon 
their  countenances.  Plainly,  they  had  not  been  par- 
ties to  the  ruse  whereby  the  English  officers  had  been 
snared.  Major  Chapoton  and  Jacques  Godefroy  pro- 
tested hotly  that  the  gentlemen  must  be  permitted  to 
return  to  the  fort,  but  Pontiac  haughtily  bade  them 
be  silent,  and  if  they  would  themselves  go  free,  to 
be  off  at  once. 

"  Go,  my  friends,"  said  the  captain  curtly,  "  you  do 
us  no  good  by  staying,  and  I  depute  you  to  carry  the 
report  of  what  has  taken  place  to  Major  Gladwin." 

Downcast  enough,  they  took  leave  of  him.  Pontiac, 
however,  began  to  survey  his  captives  with  some 
uneasiness ;  he  had  not  decided  where  he  would  be- 
stow them  for  the  night.  After  all,  the  English  might 
regain  the  supremacy  of  Le  Detroit,  and  in  that  con- 
tingency, he  and  his  braves  would  fare  better  if  they 
now  showed  Captain  Campbell  and  his  aide  the  con- 
sideration which  white  men  paid  to  officers  captured 
in  war.  To  keep  them  among  the  savages  would  not 
be  wise,  for  should  the  warriors  chance  to  get  at  any 
English  rum  or  French  eau-de-vie,  he  could  not  re- 
strain them.  No,  the  French  must  lodge  and  feed 
his  prisoners,  and  he  would  see  to  it  that  they  should 
have  no  opportunity  to  escape. 

"  My  father,  the  Blue-Coat,"  he  began,  turning  to 
Cuillerier. 

"  As  representative  of  his  Majesty  King  Louis,  I 
am  forced  to  remain  neutral  in  this  matter,"  said 
Antoine  haltingly. 


A   NOBLE    GENTLEMAN  199 

Uncertain  how  Major  Gladwin  would  act  upon 
learning  of  the  detention  of  the  officers,  he  did  not 
wish  to  risk  the  enmity  of  the  English  by  becoming 
the  gaoler  of  Pontiac's  captives. 

Here  was  an  unlooked-for  turn  of  affairs. 

The  Ottawa  chief  glared  at  his  old  friend  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  he  said  to  his  followers,  — 

"  Take  the  Englishmen  to  the  house  of  Louis  Cam- 
peau,  near  the  little  chapel  on  the  bank  of  the  river, 
and  tell  him  the  white  chief  is  to  be  treated  with  all 
the  respect  due  to  so  brave  a  warrior." 

By  this  time,  Pontiac  and  his  horde  had  the  entire 
c6te  so  much  in  awe  of  their  power  that  he  com- 
manded the  French  at  will.  In  any  event,  Campeau 
and  his  wife  were  disposed  to  receive  the  gentlemen 
kindly.  When  they  arrived,  no  guard  was  stationed 
within  doors,  but  a  party  of  Indians  camped  outside. 

Dame  Campeau  and  her  Pani  women  had  just  pre- 
pared a  neat  apartment  for  the  officers,  however,  when 
Pontiac  entered  the  house.  He  promptly  decided  that 
it  was  too  near  the  town,  and  accordingly  had  his 
captives  removed  to  the  home  of  Baptiste  Meloche 
at  Parant's  Creek. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  come  to  us  perforce,  monsieur  le 
capitaine,"  said  Baptiste,  in  his  soft  Creole  French,  as 
he  greeted  them,  half  an  hour  later.  "  But  you  are 
welcome  to  the  best  my  house  affords,  and  it  will  be 
better  for  you  and  your  lieutenant  to  be  with  us  than 
in  the  village  of  the  Indians." 

"  We  will  do  all  we  can  to  make  your  stay  endur- 
able, not  to  say  comfortable,"  added  Meloche's  young 
wife,  with  her  bright  smile. 

Her  womanly  sympathy  went  out  to  the  white  men, 
who  had  been  so  shrewdly  tricked  by  the  Ottawa. 


CHAPTER   SIXTEENTH 

A  DARING  ADVENTURE 

A  LTHOUGH  Antoine  Cuillerier  and  his  compan- 
^fjL  ion  "  commergant  voyageurs  "  of  Le  Detroit 
lived  upon  the  "  c6te  du  nord,"  or  prairie  extending 
along  the  margin  of  the  river,  they  all  had  ware- 
houses within  the  palisade.  Other  traders  had  hab- 
itations in  the  town,  the  fronts  of  these  buildings 
being  taken  up  with  stores  and  merchandise,  while 
the  dwelling-rooms  were  in  the  rear,  but  under  the 
same  roof. 

Such  was  the  log  house  of  James  Sterling ;  not  so 
pretentious  as  some  (according  to  the  simple  pre- 
tensions of  the  forest  settlement),  yet  commodious 
and  well  built,  for  the  young  merchant  had  prospered. 
Integrity  was  his  motto ;  he  was  as  punctilious  as  to 
his  reputation  in  matters  of  trade  as  was  ever  knight 
of  old  that  there  should  be  no  stain  upon  his  shield, 
as  was  ever  chevalier  of  New  France  that  no  reproach 
should  be  cast  upon  his  courage  or  honor.  Accord- 
ingly, though  a  young  man,  he  had  attained  a  decided 
standing  in  the  town,  and  possessed  the  respect  of  both 
the  commandant  and  the  people,  while  among  the 
Indians  he  was  known  as  "  the  paleface  who  neither 
cheats  nor  sells  rum." 

In  his  fur-press  were  piled  high  the  fine  pelts  of  the 
beaver,  the  otter,  and  the  silver  fox,  as  well  as  the  skins 
of  the  buffalo,  lynx,  bear,  and  wolf.  These  products 
of  his  barter  with  the  aborigines  he  hoped  to  forward 


A    DARING   ADVENTURE  201 

by  the  next  convoy  to  Niagara,  whence  they  would 
be  sent. to  England. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  his  warehouse  were  to 
be  seen  the  goods  wherewith  he  bought  the  pre- 
cious pelts,  the  iron  implements  and  muskets,  the 
blankets,  cotton  cloth,  and  a  few  made  garments  in- 
tended for  customers  among  the  garrison ;  tinware, 
vermilion,  ochre,  indigo,  and  other  pigments,  besides 
quantities  of  bright-colored  beads.  Coin  was  scarce 
at  Le  Detroit,  even  at  British  headquarters ;  there 
was  still  less  of  it  among  the  French,  and  to  the 
savages  its  use  was  entirely  unknown.  Therefore, 
almost  all  mercantile  transactions  were  matters  of 
exchange. 

Were  the  chest  in  the  corner  unlocked,  so  that  the 
lid  might  be  raised,  a  glance  into  the  interior  would 
have  revealed  a  collection  of  more  valuable  trinkets. 
Strings  of  silver  half-moons,  crosses,  gorgets,  silver 
armbands,  wristbands,  brooches,  hairplates,  hairbobs, 
earbobs,  calculated  to  attract  the  savages,  besides 
other  ornaments,  designed  to  please  the  French  dames 
and  demoiselles. 

Surrounded  by  the  evidences  that  he  was  laying 
the  foundation  of  a  good  business,  the  merchant  had, 
it  would  seem,  good  reason  for  contentment,  save 
that  beside  his  hearthstone  sat  no  gentle  wife  to 
whom  he  might  confide  his  hopes ;  who  would 
rejoice  at  his  successes  and  console  his  failures.  But 
it  was  Angelique  Ctiillerier  whom  he  wished  to  marry. 
In  her  centered  his  ideal  of  home ;  and  Angelique 
cared  not  for  him  at  all,  else  she  would  not  have  cast 
aside  his  love  for  the  sake  of  a  dance  with  Sir  William 
Johnson.  True,  she  had  been  gracious  to  him  once 
or  twice  after  the  day  of  the  Black  Rain,  when  he 
had  gone  in  search  of  and  found  her  in  the  storm. 


202    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

But,  doubtless,  this  was  from  a  sense  of  obligation, 
and  the  thought  galled  his  pride  as  much  as  it 
wounded  his  affection.  Outside  his  window  was  a 
vine  brought  from  the  prairie ;  the  more  he  pruned 
and  checked  it,  the  more  it  flourished.  The  more  he 
strove  to  control  his  love  for  Angelique,  the  stronger 
and  more  beautiful  it  grew. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  "  love's  anger  is  the  fuel 
of  love  "  that  he  was  so  conscious  of  his  passion 
during  these  early  days  of  the  Indian  troubles  at  the 
strait.  For  his  soul  was  filled  with  a  jealous  rage 
against  the  girl  and  against  Gladwin,  the  more  since 
at  this  crisis  he  could  not  quarrel  with  the  com- 
mandant, even  had  Gladwin  of  a  certainty  won  the 
love  of  this  fair  demoiselle  of  New  France.  And 
had  he?  Confusion  seize  him,  yes,  it  must  be! 
Otherwise,  why  the  stolen  visit  of  Angelique,  when 
he,  Sterling,  had  compelled  her  to  cast  aside  her 
disguise,  and  she  had  defied  him  in  her  youthful 
beauty?  Otherwise,  what  could  she  have  had  to 
say  to  the  commandant? 

Might  there  not  have  been  a  secret  marriage? 
Antoine  Cuillerier  would  be  like  to  refuse  his  as- 
sent to  the  union  of  his  daughter  with  one  of  the 
hated  foreigners;  yet  Gladwin  was  not  a  man 
to  be  thwarted  by  such  prejudices.  But  no,  ac- 
cording to  the  law  of  the  place,  the  consent  of 
the  bride's  parents  was  necessary  to  make  a  mar- 
riage legal,  unless  she  had  passed  the  age  of  one- 
and-twenty.  A  betrothal  there  might  be,  however. 
He  could  imagine  that  some  other  woman  might 
prefer  Gladwin  to  himself;  but  Mademoiselle  Cuil- 
lerier should  have  more  discernment.  Gladwin 
was  not  ill  favored,  was  of  good  lineage  and  fair 
ability  (if  somewhat  overrated,  perhaps),  yet  he, 


A    DARING   ADVENTURE  203 

Sterling,  also  made  a  passable  appearance,  if  the 
flattering  asides  of  the  ladies  of  Le  Detroit  were  to 
be  credited. 

He  possessed  fair  talents.  In  a  few  years  he  would 
be  able  to  give  his  wife  everything  in  the  way  of 
jewels  and  rich  dress  that  she  could  in  reason  de- 
sire. As  for  descent,  did  he  not  trace  an  honorable 
ancestry  far  back  into  the  misty  past?  Gladwin  in 
his  cool  fashion  might  swear  to  Angelique  that  he 
adored  her;  yet  Angelique  ought  to  know  he  could 
never  give  her  the  passionate  devotion,  the  strong 
love,  that  burned  for  her  in  the  heart  of  James 
Sterling. 

But  thoughts  of  love  and  even  of  jealousy  must 
yield  to  employment,  and  there  was  much  for  the 
young  trader  to  do,  since  the  officers  of  the  fort 
relied  upon  him  to  show  the  inhabitants  of  the  town 
that  their  best  interests  lay  in  making  common  cause 
with  the  English  in  the  coming  struggle  against  the 
savages. 

Despite  his  efforts,  many  of  the  French,  alarmed  at 
the  prospect  of  an  attack  upon  the  garrison,  asked 
leave  to  withdraw  to  their  farms  upon  the  c6tes,  and 
went  out,  abandoning  their  homes  and  a  part  of  their 
goods. 

One  day  at  the  noon  hour  Sterling  was  alone  in  his 
warehouse,  engaged  with  his  accounts,  when  there 
came  to  him  from  without  the  tones  of  a  light  bari- 
tone voice  singing  with  gay  abandon,  — 

"  '  Ma  Mignonette,  embrassez  moi  ? ' 
'  Nenni,  monsieur,  je  n'oserais, 
Car,  si  mon  papa  le  savait.'  — 
'  Les  oiseaux  parlent-ils  ? ' 
'  Oui,  ils  parlent  fran$ais,  latin  aussi.' 
'  Ils  parlent  frangais,  latin  aussi  ? 


204     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

Hdlas,  que  le  monde  est  malm, 
D'apprendre  aux  oiseaux  le  latin.'"1 

The  next  moment  a  shadow  obscured  the  sunlight 
that  fell  upon  the  desk,  and,  looking  up,  the  Scotch- 
man beheld  in  the  open  doorway  a  young  man  who 
evidently  affected  the  costume  of  a  voyageur,  yet 
wore  it  with  the  air  of  a  prince.  His  blue  blouse 
showed  to  advantage  the  clear  olive  tint  of  his  hand- 
some face,  from  which  looked  out  a  pair  of  fine  dark 
eyes,  while  a  jaunty  red  cap,  set  upon  the  wavy  black 
locks  that  hung  loose  about  his  shoulders,  lent  an 
additional  picturesqueness  to  a  remarkably  attractive 
personality.  It  was  Robishe  Navarre,  the  son  of  the 
notary,  Robert  the  Writer. 

"  Navarre,"  exclaimed  Sterling,  with  pleasure,  rising 
and  extending  his  hand,  which  the  other  grasped  with 
frank  cordiality. 

The  two  men  respected  each  other,  and  even  their 
whilom  rivalry  for  the  favor  of  the  tantalizing  demoi- 
selle Angelique  Cuillerier  had  not  proved  an  insur- 
mountable barrier  to  their  friendship. 

"  Robishe,  be  seated.  No,  not  on  that  bale  of 
cloth;  take  the  chair,  and  I  will  find  a  place  on  the 
chest.  You  have  been  away  beyond  the  c6te  for 
some  days.  I  am  glad  you  have  come  back  to  the 
town  when  so  many  of  the  French  are  leaving." 

"  Chut,  quelle  b£tise !  It  is  safer  within  the  pal- 
isade than  without,"  responded  the  Creole  indif- 

*  " '  Mignonette,  one  little  kiss  ? ' 

'  Nay,  nay,  good  sir,  for  I  should  fear, 
Of  it  my  dear  papa  would  hear.' 
'Bah,  would  the  birds  tell,  think  you?' 
'  Yes,  they  speak  French  and  Latin  too.' 
'  What,  they  speak  French  and  Latin  too  ? 
Ah,  'tis  a  cruel  world  we  live  in, 
Where  the  forest  birds  learn  Latin.' " 


A   DARING   ADVENTURE  205 

ferently.  "  But  he  who  has  not  courage  must  have 
legs  !  " 

"  No  man  can  answer  for  his  courage  until  he  has 
been  in  danger,"  said  Sterling,  with  a  laugh.  "  What 
news  do  you  bring?  You  have  heard,  I  suppose,  of 
Major  Gladwin's  haughty  answer  to  Pontiac :  'The 
King  of  England  has  sent  me  to  command  this  fort, 
and  I  will  hold  it.'" 

Robishe  nodded,  and  proceeded  to  say  that  the 
warriors  were  robbing  the  French  of  ammunition  and 
farm  produce;  that  the  Great  Chief  had  sent  La 
Butte  to  ask  the  cure  if  God  would  prevent  the  Indians 
from  vanquishing  the  English  in  case  he,  Pontiac,  set 
fire  to  the  church  of  Ste.  Anne  by  means  of  an  arrow 
winged  with  a  blaze  of  punk  and  tow,  that  thus  the 
stockade  might  be  destroyed.  "  However,  it  is  not 
of  these  matters  I  am  come  to  you,  but  because  of 
Captain  Campbell  and  his  lieutenant,"  pursued  the 
vivacious  Creole. 

"You  bring  me  a  message  from  Mr.  Campbell?" 
cried  Sterling,  starting  to  his  feet. 

"  Ay,"  responded  Robishe,  his  light-heartedness 
giving  place  to  gloom.  In  common  with  the  major- 
ity of  the  French,  he  liked  the  genial  officer,  and  was 
sorry  for  his  captivity. 

"  Yes,  rumor  says  he  was  bidden  not  to  go  to  the 
c6te  by  the  spirit  of  la  jolie  Mathurine.  Indeed,  a 
habitant,  who  was  on  the  prairie  searching  for  a  lost 
cow,  avers  that  he  saw  the  ghostly  form  of  a  young 
maiden  flitting  before  the  captain  and  stretching  forth 
shadowy  hands  to  detain  him  when  he  set  out  with 
the  envoys." 

"  I  '11  warrant  the  teller  of  the  story  saw  spirits  of 
another  kind  ere  he  went  forth,"  commented  Sterling. 

"  That  may  be,"  rejoined  Robishe ;  "  yet  I  do  not 


206     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

discredit  the  tale  of  the  apparition  of  a  maiden,  be- 
cause on  that  evening,  some  time  after  dusk,  as  I 
myself  was  strolling  on  the  meadow  at  this  side  of  the 
Cuillerier  farm,  I  encountered  Mademoiselle  Ange- 
lique,  who  was  short  of  breath,  as  if  she  had  run  a 
long  distance.  She  seemed  not  over-pleased  to  see 
me,  but  I  walked  by  her  side  until  we  reached  her 
home.  I  '11  wager  she  was  sent  to  decoy  the  captain." 

"  But  the  message?"  reiterated  Sterling,  compress- 
ing his  lips. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  it  is  a  letter.  Did  I  not  bestow  it  in  my 
pouch?  I  have  not  lost  it !  Heaven  forbid." 

While  he  searched  for  the  missive,  the  Scotchman's 
mind  was  in  a  tumult.  Had  he  been  wrong  about 
Angelique  after  all?  Instead  of  being  betrothed  to 
the  commandant,  had  she  all  along  acted  the  spy  for 
her  father,  who  was  known  to  be  the  special  friend 
of  Pontiac?  If  so,  this  would  account  for  her  strange 
interview  with  Gladwin.  She  had  been  sent  to  him 
with  some  message  calculated  to  deceive;  old  Cuille- 
rier and  Pontiac  had  availed  themselves  of  the  com- 
mandant's fancy  for  her  to  throw  dust  in  his  eyes ; 
and  now  again  they  had  employed  her  to  beg  Cap- 
tain Campbell  to  attend  the  council  at  the  house  of 
Cuillerier,  ostensibly  in  the  interests  of  peace.  The 
envoys  might  fail  in  their  mission,  but  the  gallant 
captain  would  not  harden  his  heart  against  the  naive 
pleading  of  the  belle  of  Le  Detroit.  The  young 
merchant  sighed.  He  would  almost  rather  hear  that 
she  was  married  to  Gladwin  than  that  she  had  lent 
her  aid  to  this  ignoble  scheme,  even  under  the  delu- 
sion that  she  was  helping  the  cause  of  New  France. 

These  thoughts  passed  rapidly  through  his  brain ; 
but  presently  Robishe  drew  forth  the  letter  from  an 
inner  pocket  of  his  blouse. 


A   DARING   ADVENTURE  207 

"  Ah,  here  it  is,"  he  exclaimed ;  and,  having 
put  it  into  the  merchant's  hand,  he  turned  on  his 
heel  and  began  to  examine  the  stock  in  the  ware- 
house. 

The  billet  was  inscribed  upon  two  small,  thin  sheets 
of  birch  bark,  and  fastened  together  with  fibres  of  the 
same,  the  ink  being  evidently  made  of  soot  from  the 
chimney  of  Meloche's  kitchen  mingled  with  water. 
Thus  ran  the  writing,— 

"  MR.  STERLING,  —  I  beg  you  to  send  me  the  goods  men- 
tioned in  the  list  below,  since  I  do  not  find  a  supply  in  the 
packet  brought  from  my  quarters  at  the  fort,  and  know  not 
what  has  become  of  them.  I  have  some  moneys  lodged  at 
Philadelphia,  which  I  have  ordered  sent  to  me  by  the  next 
convoy,  and  out  of  this  sum  I  will  repay  you.  [The  list 
had  reference  to  some  clothing  he  wished  to  have.  Then 
the  letter  continued.] 

"  Young  Mr.  Navarre  is  here  with  a  slave  boy.  He  goes 
to  town,  but  says  he  will  return  in  the  afternoon  upon  some 
errand  of  his  own.  He  has  civilly  offered  to  have  the  Pani 
bring  back  the  packet  for  me.  I  beg  you  to  add  to  it  some 
trinket  that,  with  my  host's  permission,  I  may  present  to 
Madame  Meloche,  who  has  been  most  kind  to  me.  Save 
that  I  chafe  at  my  enforced  inaction,  I  am  not  badly  off, 
and,  having  given  my  parole,  am  suffered  to  walk  upon  the 
prairie  in  the  vicinity  of  this  house.  But,  zounds  !  my  dear 
Mr.  Sterling,  had  I  heeded  the  counsel  of  'the  bonnie 
lassie,'  I  should  not  be  in  this  stress.  You  more  than  any 
one  save  myself  will  appreciate  her  courage.  She  has  been 
to  see  me.  You  will  not  grudge  this  consolation  to  a  luckless 
captive,  for  short-sighted  as  I  am,  I  have  marked  that  her 
cheeks  flush  at  the  mention  of  your  name.  I  shall  say  no 
more,  but  subscribe  myself, 

"  With  great  esteem,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  DONALD  CAMPBELL." 


ao8     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

With  a  revulsion  of  feeling,  Sterling  thrust  the 
letter  into  his  belt.  "The  bonnie  lassie!"  Thus 
had  Campbell  more  than  once  named  Mademoiselle 
Cuillerier  to  his  fellow  Scot  Writing  in  English, 
which  to  all  but  one  or  two  of  the  French,  as  well  as 
to  the  Indians,  was  like  a  cipher,  he  had  passed  over 
his  own  misfortunes  to  tell  a  lover  that  the  woman  he 
loved  had  acted  the  part  of  a  heroine. 

"The  captain  shall  have  gratis  everything  that 
James  Sterling  can  furnish  for  his  comfort,"  resolved 
the  merchant.  "  And  I  must  see  Angelique  without 
delay.  She  shall  be  my  wife,  if  I  have  to  fight  for 
her  against  a  score  of  suitors." 

"  Monsieur  de  Navarre,"  he  said  aloud,  interrupting 
the  young  man's  inspection  of  a  fine  firelock,  "  when 
do  you  return  to  the  c6te?  " 

"  Two  hours  hence,  but  I  shall  come  back  to  the 
town  to-morrow." 

"  In  two  hours  the  packet  will  be  ready,  and  I 
know  you  will  see  that  it  is  conveyed  to  Captain 
Campbell." 

"  So  I  have  promised,"  replied  the  Frenchman, 
with  a  dramatic  wave  of  his  right  hand. 

He  started  away,  but,  at  a  call  from  Sterling,  ar- 
rested his  steps. 

"  Is  it  true,  Monsieur  de  Navarre,  that  you  are 
betrothed  to  Mademoiselle  de  Mersac?"  asked  the 
merchant  haltingly. 

"Oui,  Monsieur,  the  honor  and  happiness  are 
mine,"  replied  Robishe,  with  enthusiasm.  "  Ah,  her 
beauty  is  of  a  softer  kind  than  that  of  other  demoi- 
selles I  might  name.  And  what  grace  is  hers !  A 
gentle  disposition,  too,  looks  out  of  her  gray  eyes ; 
her  skin  is  fair  as  the  apple  blossoms.  Moreover, 
my  sweet  Archange  has  a  loving  nature." 


A   DARING   ADVENTURE  209 

"  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Ster- 
ling, with  a  warm  clasp  of  his  hand.  "  Now,  there 
is  a  favor  I  would  ask  of  you.  On  the  way  to  Bap- 
tiste  Meloche's  you  will  pass  the  house  of  Antoine 
Cuillerier.  After  his  treatment  of  Captain  Camp- 
bell I  cannot  go  there,  yet  I  wish  to  send  a  word  to 
Mademoiselle  Angelique." 

Robishe  scowled.  Although  Archange  was  now 
the  demoiselle  of  his  dreams,  he  still  resented  the 
coldness  that  Angelique  had  shown  to  his  former 
devotion,  since,  of  all  the  attributes  of  love,  the  last 
to  die  is  jealousy. 

The  next  moment,  however,  his  liking  for  the 
Scotchman  reasserted  itself.  Further,  the  thought 
occurred  to  him  that  in  no  surer  way  could  he  im- 
press Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  with  his  present  indif- 
ference to  her  charms  than  by  carrying  to  her  a 
message  from  another  lover.  It  would  be  an  excellent 
means  of  being  quits  with  her. 

"Eh  bien?"  queried  Sterling,  breaking  the  pause 
that  had  followed  his  request. 

"  Eh  bien,  my  friend,"  answered  Navarre,  with  a 
laugh,  "  a  man's  words  are  like  an  arrow,  close  to 
the  mark,  but  the  words  of  a  coquette  are  like  a 
broken  fan  of  feathers.  The  smile  of  Angelique 
Cuillerier  warms  the  heart  like  wine,  but  it  is  a  sweet 
poison.  Nevertheless,  if  you  persist,  I  will  take  the 
billet." 

"The  demoiselle  and  I  have  had  a  misunderstand- 
ing, and  I  would  fain  make  my  peace  with  her  before 
we  of  the  town  are  shut  in  behind  the  stockade  by  an 
Indian  siege,"  explained  Sterling  nonchalantly. 

Two  hours  later,  when  Robishe  again  repaired  to 
the  warehouse  of  the  merchant,  the  packet  was  ready 
for  the  shoulders  of  the  Pani,  and  Sterling  handed  to 
14 


210     THE   HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

the  young  Frenchman  a  scented  scrap  of  paper  folded 
in  the  intricate  and  fanciful  manner  that  was  sup- 
posed by  the  gentlemen  of  the  period  to  make  a 
"  billet  doux  "  more  interesting  to  one  of  the  fair  sex. 
Therein  the  Scotchman  had  prayed  his  sweetheart  to 
grant  him  an  interview,  saying  that  he  would  go  up 
the  river  at  twilight  on  the  first  evening  he  could  get 
away  from  his  duties  at  the  fort,  and  as  a  signal  he 
would  blow  three  notes  upon  the  pibbigwin,  or  Indian 
flute. 

Meantime,  on  the  southern  shore  of  the  strait, 
Pontiac,  unknown  to  Father  Potier,  visited  the  "  good 
band  of  Hurons,"  and  won  from  them  a  promise  to 
join  the  Foxes  in  an  assault  upon  the  stockade  the 
next  day. 

"  Yet  to-morrow  is  a  high  holiday,"  they  said. 
"  If  we  are  not  at  the  services,  the  Black  Robe  will 
know  we  have  this  design  hidden  in  our  hearts,  and 
he  will  not  let  us  go  with  you.  After  the  Mass, 
therefore,  we  will  go." 

The  Indian  girls  were  at  the  time  decking  the  altar 
of  the  chapel  for  the  Feast  of  the  Ascension.  Pon- 
tiac, being  a  pagan,  knew  neither  holiday  nor  Sunday, 
but  he  agreed  to  wait.  In  the  morning,  so  devout 
was  the  bearing  of  the  Hurons  that  their  missionary 
obtained  no  inkling  of  their  intent.  As  soon  as  the 
services  were  over  each  warrior  returned  to  his  lodge 
for  his  weapons.  The  band  then  crossed  the  river  in 
twelve  canoes,  were  welcomed  with  cries  of  joy  by 
the  Foxes,  and  proved  the  most  valiant  of  the  savages 
in  withstanding  the  rain  of  bullets  from  the  stockade. 

The  battle  continued  for  the  rest  of  the  day. 
Major  Gladwin,  seeing  that  the  Indians  took  refuge 
in  the  houses  and  barns  of  the  habitants,  destroyed 
these  buildings  by  causing  iron  bolts  to  be  heated 


A   DARING   ADVENTURE  211 

red-hot,  and  fired  upon  the  thatched  roofs.  The  fort 
was  now  regularly  besieged;  the  garrison  remained 
day  and  night  upon  the  bastions,  hearth-fires  were 
promptly  extinguished  after  the  preparation  of  food, 
and  women  and  children  were  ordered  to  keep  within 
doors. 

James  Sterling  had  been  appointed  to  command 
the  French  who  lived  in  the  town,  and  were  ready  to 
aid  in  its  defence.  At  the  first  lull  in  the  hostilities 
of  the  redmen  he  volunteered  to  go  to  the  c6te, 
reconnoitre  the  enemy,  and  bring  back,  if  possible, 
some  intelligence  of  what  was  going  on  at  the  Ottawa 
camp. 

Anxious  as  Gladwin  was  for  such  information,  he 
did  not  at  once  embrace  the  offer,  and  the  Scotch- 
man with  annoyance  concluded  that  the  commandant 
suspected  him  of  having  another  object  in  view.  If 
the  latter's  reluctance  arose  from  a  wish  to  prevent 
him  from  gaining  speech  with  Mademoiselle  Cuille- 
rier,  however,  it  was  a  clear  case  of  dog  in  the 
manger,  since  Gladwin  could  not  go  in  any  event. 

In  justice  to  Sterling  it  must  be  set  down  that  he 
would  have  been  ready  to  undertake  the  expedition 
were  there  no  demoiselle  in  consideration.  The  de- 
sire to  see  and  talk  with  Angelique  but  whetted  his 
courage.  Yet,  how  should  he  go?  The  prairie  was 
infested  with  Indians;  to  put  out  boldly  from  the 
stockade  was  not  feasible.  No,  he  would  swim  across 
the  river  to  the  farm  of  Jacques  Baby ;  it  was  double 
the  distance,  but  this  could  not  be  helped.  Baby 
would  lend  him  a  boat,  and  he  would  take  care  not 
to  let  fall  a  word  that  his  adventure  was  other  than 
to  keep  a  lover's  tryst. 

Since  the  days  when  Leander  swam  the  Hellespont, 
men  have  done  many  chivalrous  deeds  for  love's  sake, 


212     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

and  among  them  may  surely  be  reckoned  the  daring 
feat  which  the  young  merchant  was  now  resolved  to 
attempt.  For  though  only  the  breadth  of  half  a  mile 
of  blue  water  lies  between  the  site  of  the  old  fort  of 
Le  Detroit  and  the  Baby  lands,  the  current  is  swift 
and  strong,  and  in  the  latter  part  of  May  still  cold 
from  the  snows  of  the  Northwest. 

Sterling  was,  however,  unsurpassed  as  a  swimmer, 
even  by  many  of  the  voyageurs. 

Accordingly,  an  hour  before  sunset,  he  struck  out 
from  the  shore,  carrying  the  costume  of  a  habitant, 
wrapped  in  oilskin  and  strapped  upon  his  back.  On 
the  bastion  of  the  fort  a  pennant  fluttered  for  a 
moment,  this  being  a  pre-concerted  signal  to  the 
ships  beyond  that  the  commandant  was  sending  a 
messenger  to  the  opposite  shore;  a  necessary  pre- 
caution, since  otherwise  the  swimmer  might  be 
descried  from  the  vessels,  and  fired  upon  as  his  head 
appeared  above  the  water.  After  buffeting. for  some 
time  with  the  current,  he  reached  the  small  boat  that, 
made  fast  by  a  painter,  floated  at  the  stern  of  the 
larger  ship.  Grasping  the  side  of  the  boat,  he  rested 
a  few  minutes,  called  a  message  to  the  men  above  on 
the  deck,  and  then  continued  on  until,  by  alternately 
swimming  and  floating,  he  reached  the  southern  bank 
of  the  strait. 

Half  an  hour  later,  a  man  in  the  guise  of  a  young 
Canadian  farmer  knocked  at  the  house  of  Jacques 
Baby.  It  was  honest  Jacques  himself  who  flung 
open  the  door. 

"  Ma  foi  —  non  —  mais  oui !  It  is  indeed  you,  Mon- 
sieur L'ficossais  "  (Mr.  Scotchman),  he  cried,  as  he 
recognized  Sterling.  "  You  are  welcome  as  the 
flowers  of  May,  but  in  God's  name  how  did  you 
come?  I  thought  you  were  of  those  shut  up  in  the 


A   DARING   ADVENTURE  213 

fort  yonder,  and  harassed  by  the  wolves  of  the 
forest.  You  swam  the  river?  Nom  de  Dieu,  what 
plan  put  you  to  carry  out  such  an  undertaking?" 

With  little  ado,  the  merchant  told  the  good  man  so 
much  of  his  project  as  he  had  decided  to  acknowledge. 

"  Parbleu,  '  a  fence  between  makes  love  more 
keen.'  I  will  not  seek  to  learn  for  what  jolie  Cana- 
dienne  you  are  bent  upon  this  dare-devil  enterprise. 
My  wife,  Suzanne  Reaume,  was  the  rosiest  girl  on 
the  c6te  in  her  day,  so  I  have  not  forgot  that  one 
hair  of  a  fair  woman  can  draw  more  than  my  team  of 
oxen,  though  they  are  the  best  on  the  lands  of  this 
region.  Lend  you  a  canoe?  To  be  sure  I  will,  and 
send  you  away  after  supper  with  a  '  Dieu  vous 
sauve! '" 

Dame  Baby,  who  had  bustled  about  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  food,  now  presided  at  the  board,  smiling, 
stout,  and  comely.  The  meal  over,  Baby  took  from  a 
peg  on  the  wall  a  wide-brimmed  hat  of  home-woven 
straw  which  he  was  wont  to  wear  in  the  fields. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  "  a  habitant  dons  a  headpiece  such 
as  this,  often  even  in  the  moonlight.  It  will  screen 
your  face,  if  occasion  there  be,  better  than  the  dark- 
colored  handkerchief  you  have  bound  about  your 
brow." 

He  would  have  summoned  his  negro  servant  to 
launch  a  canoe  that  lay  beside  the  house,  but  Ster- 
ling protested. 

"  Few  should  know  whence  I  came,  and  how  I 
have  gone,"  he  said  ;  "  with  your  leave,  I  will  fetch  it 
myself." 

"As  you  will,"  was  the  reply. 

Bidding  "  au  revoir  "  to  his  host,  Sterling  raised 
the  light  craft  upon  his  shoulders,  carried  it  to  the 
water's  edge,  and  embarked.  He  would  go  up  the 


214     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

river  a  short  distance,  and  then  make  for  the  northern 
bank.  The  sun  had  set,  and  he  designed  to  reach 
the  Cuillerier  farm  before  the  darkness  fell,  yet  not 
until  the  shadows  had  begun  to  gather,  since  other- 
wise his  canoe  might  be  observed  from  the  Ottawa 
camp.  For  a  time  all  went  well ;  if  the  French  of  the 
southern  c6te  noted  his  skiff  as  he  paddled  steadily 
on,  no  doubt  they  thought  the  boatman  Jacques 
Baby,  bound  upon  a  friendly  visit  to  a  comrade,  or 
perchance  young  Morand  dit  Grimard  or  Rivard  dit 
Maisonville,  going  to  see  his  "bonne  amie"  (sweet- 
heart). 

On  the  shores  were  to  be  seen  no  indications  of 
the  Indian  outbreak  that  had  vented  its  fury  upon  the 
unfortunate  settlers  of  the  Isle  au  Cochon.  The 
white  farmhouses  wore  an  air  of  quiet;  the  pirogues 
of  the  habitants  crossed  and  recrossed  the  strait  as 
usual,  and  the  Scotchman  found  that  though  his 
boat  was  not  likely  to  attract  attention  from  the 
land,  to  avoid  discovery  he  must  keep  well  away 
from  the  other  craft  upon  the  water.  For  though 
the  wisest  of  the  French  were  eager  for  peace,  there 
were  others  who  sided  strongly  with  Pontiac. 

Now  a  social  Canadian  hailed  the  adventurer  as  a 
neighbor,  and  the  next  moment  called  after  him, 
"  Canaille,  imbecile  !  "  because  with  only  an  answering 
"  h6la !  "  he  paddled  on.  Again,  and  more  alarming, 
some  redman,  happy  with  his  "  Nedjemon  "  (canoe),  a 
mate  more  beloved  than  was  ever  Indian  maiden, 
challenged  the  supposed  voyageur  to  a  water  race, 
and  cried  out  in  disgust  when  he  paid  no  heed. 

Half  a  score  of  times  he  was  on  the  point  of  being 
discovered,  once  by  a  warrior  from  Pontiac's  village. 
When  Sterling  recognized  the  savage  as  Wasson,  the 
slayer  of  la  jolie  Mathurine,  his  hand  sought  the 


A    DARING    ADVENTURE  215 

pistol  that  he  carried ;  he  felt  an  almost  uncontrollable 
longing  to  avenge  the  fate  of  the  gentle  girl.  But  to 
shoot  the  Sauteur  from  the  canoe  would  be  mad- 
ness ;  the  discharge  of  his  weapon  would  bring  about 
him  a  horde  of  savages.  As  it  was,  there  were  fewer 
redmen  than  French  upon  the  river,  but  over  near 
the  Ottawa  camp  the  water  was  black  with  the  heads 
of  Indian  bathers,  who  yelled  to  one  another,  and 
sometimes  ran  leaping  and  shouting  along  the  strand. 

As  the  young  man  turned  toward  the  shore,  a 
point  of  land  hid  them  from  his  view,  and  presently 
he  brought  his  canoe  close  to  a  secluded  stretch  of 
shingle,  not  far  from  the  home  of  Antoine  Cuillerier. 
The  overhanging  bluff  rendered  this  point  one  of  the 
most  secure  from  observation  of  any  along  the  river 
edge.  Here  Angelique  had  encountered  Catherine 
the  Ojibwa  and  been  taunted  by  the  Indian  girl;  to 
this  spot  Sterling  had  asked  the  demoiselle  to  come, 
that  he  might  exchange  a  few  words  with  her. 

It  was  that  tenderest  time  of  the  gloaming  sacred 
to  love  and  to  lovers  the  world  over,  —  the  witching 
half-hour  wherein  the  young  Night,  with  the  evening 
star  gleaming  upon  his  forehead,  impatiently  waits  at 
the  trysting-place  for  the  fair  Day ;  waits  to  cast  his 
strong,  faithful  arms  about  her  in  a  lover's  caress. 
To  the  Scotchman  the  twilight  always  brought  rec- 
ollections of  his  own  country.  Now  again  in  fancy 
he  saw  the  heather-mantled  moors  and  hills;  he 
heard  the  call  of  the  cuckoo  in  the  spring,  and  the 
blackbird  singing  on  the  hawthorn  hedge.  For  a 
moment  a  touch  of  that  worst  of  all  maladies  to 
the  exile,  a  longing  for  his  native  land,  swept  over 
him ;  how  often  had  he  hunted  the  deer  among  its 
mountains,  and  fished  in  its  clear  stony  brooks ! 
But,  straightway,  with  a  laugh  of  content  he  put  away 


2i6     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

the  home-longing.  No,  it  was  not  there  after  all  that 
he  wished  to  be;  it  was  here  at  Le  Detroit,  over 
which  Kenu,  the  Indian  war-bird,  hovered ;  here  near 
the  strand  of  the  river,  waiting  for  a  glimpse  of  Ange- 
lique  Cuillerier. 

Close  at  his  hand  lay  the  rude  flute  he  had  brought. 
He  raised  it  to  his  lips  and  blew  softly  three  notes 
like  the  notes  of  a  whip-poor-will. 

He  could  see  the  Cuillerier  house,  though  he 
could  not  himself  be  observed  from  it.  At  first 
there  seemed  no  one  about  the  place,  but  ere  many 
minutes  a  woman  crossed  the  gallery.  It  was  Ange- 
lique  he  felt  sure.  Again  he  gave  the  soft,  clear  call 
he  had  named  as  the  signal.  The  white-clad  figure 
seemed  to  hesitate,  came  a  short  distance  down  the 
garden  walk,  paused ;  then  turned  deliberately,  went 
slowly  back,  and  disappeared. 

What  did  this  mean?  In  his  ardor  for  the  meeting 
with  his  sweetheart,  the  exertions  he  had  made  to 
obtain  it,  and  the  risk  he  ran,  Sterling  had  lost  sight 
of  the  possibility  that  Angelique  might  not  be  will- 
ing to  come  to  the  trysting-place  as  he  had  craved 
in  his  billet.  Yet  such  it  seemed  was  the  case. 

A  third  time  he  sounded  the  notes  upon  the  pib- 
bigwin,  hazardous  as  it  was  to  do  so.  Still,  all  was 
silent;  the  white  figure  did  not  reappear;  no,  Ange- 
lique would  not  come. 

Hot  with  anger,  the  young  man  shot  his  canoe  out 
into  the  stream ;  after  all  he  had  endured  to  obtain 
this  interview,  after  the  dangers  he  had  braved,  Ange- 
lique Cuillerier,  the  heartless  coquette,  would  not  walk 
a  stone's  throw  from  her  home  to  reward  him  by  so 
much  as  a  pleasant  greeting;  not  even  to  give  him  a 
good  wish  that  in  the  next  assault  upon  the  fort  he 
might  again  escape  unharmed. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEENTH 

COURAGE  BREAKS  ILL  LUCK 

OTERLING'S  disappointment  made  him  reckless, 
O  and  he  paddled  farther  up  the  stream.  Yonder, 
just  above  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  was  the  house  of 
Baptiste  Meloche,  and  there  in  a  side  room  burned  a 
light.  Was  this  the  room  which  was  assigned  to 
Captain  Campbell  and  Lieutenant  McDougal,  as 
Robishe  Navarre  had  said?  He  took  note  of  its 
position,  hoping  the  knowledge  might  be  of  service 
in  any  plans  to  be  formed  for  the  rescue  of  the 
officers.  Then  he  proceeded,  close  to  the  shore. 
The  Sauteurs  had  joined  with  the  Sacs,  Foxes,  and 
Ottawas  in  one  great  camp,  on  the  north  bank  of  Le 
Detroit.  Surprised  at  its  extent,  he  estimated  their 
number  and  remembered  with  concern  that  Baby 
had  said  food  was  abundant  among  them  and  they 
had  plenty  of  ammunition,  having  taken  nearly  all 
the  store  of  the  French. 

Darkness  had  now  fallen  and  there  was  great  ex- 
citement in  the  village.  Behind  the  camp,  the  forests 
gave  to  the  scene  a  background  of  impenetrable 
blackness ;  the  river  flowed  onward  in  a  gray  flood ; 
the  few  stars  to  be  seen  shone  but  dimly,  as  though 
they  would  fain  veil  their  faces  with  clouds ;  and  in 
the  red  glow  of  the  campfires  he  could  see  the  sav- 
age forms  of  Indian  braves  dancing  the  war-dance. 
Round  and  round  a  post  they  circled,  striking  it  with 
their  tomahawks  and  knives  with  frenzied  zeal,  as 


218     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

though  each  blow  was  meant  for  the  heart  of  some 
human  victim.  To  Sterling  they  seemed  like  so  many 
demons  rejoicing  in  the  woes  of  mankind,  and  he 
reflected  gloomily  that  this  dance  boded  no  good  for 
the  officers  and  garrison  shut  up  in  the  fort  by  the 
siege,  and  augured  ill  for  Captain  Campbell  and 
McDougal.  The  weird  spectacle  had  for  him  a  spe- 
cies of  fascination,  and  he  continued  to  gaze  as 
though  under  a  spell. 

From  this  lethargy  he  was  aroused  by  the  faint 
sound  of  a  paddle  dipped  lightly  into  the  water  at 
regular  intervals.  He  was  not  alone  upon  this  part 
of  the  river  as  he  had  supposed ;  a  canoe  was  coming 
toward  him,  was  quite  near,  otherwise  he  would  not 
have  heard  that  stroke  like  the  wing  of  a  water  fowl 
brushing  the  surface  of  the  stream.  With  a  start, 
Sterling  aroused  himself  and  grasped  his  own  paddle, 
for  he  had  allowed  his  boat  to  drift  with  the  cur- 
rent. Was  he  discovered  in  his  reconnoitring,  and 
was  this  an  Indian  sent  out  to  bring  him  to  the 
shore?  Even  in  civilized  warfare  the  punishment  of 
a  spy  was  death ;  what  would  be  his  fate  if  taken  ? 
Torture,  with  death  delayed,  that  he  might  suffer 
more! 

The  Scotchman  set  his  teeth  and  resolved  that  he 
would  never  be  taken  alive.  He  had  a  knife  in  his 
belt ;  he  drew  it  forth.  If  his  enemy  was  a  solitary 
Indian  he  would  use  it  to  defend  himself,  and  there 
would  be  a  fair  chance  of  escape.  If  several  savages 
were  in  the  canoe,  he  would  have  recourse  to  the 
pistol,  and  punish  as  many  redskins  as  he  could 
before  they  finished  him.  He  dared  not  use  his 
paddle  now,  lest  its  touch  upon  the  water  should 
reveal  his  position,  yet  he  hoped  among  the  shadows 
to  elude  the  foe  who  was  evidently  seeking  him  out. 


COURAGE    BREAKS    ILL   LUCK       219 

Yes,  he  would  make  a  desperate  struggle  for  his  life, 
that  he  might  carry  back  to  the  fort  the  informa- 
tion he  had  gathered.  Nevertheless,  as  still  upon  his 
ear  smote  the  light  paddle  stroke,  while  the  canoe 
gained  steadily  upon  him,  he  felt  that  his  last  hour 
was  come ;  and  drifting  thus,  surrounded  by  the  rush- 
ing waters  and  with  the  calm  sky  above  him,  it 
seemed  to  him  as  if  the  whole  world  were  swept 
away  in  a  flood  of  waters,  and  his  soul  stood  for 
judgment  before  the  Creator. 

On,  on  came  the  pursuer.  Sterling  grasped  his 
knife  firmly  in  one  hand  and  his  paddle  in  the  other. 
A  minute  more,  then  the  chasing  canoe  shot  out 
of  the  darkness  close  beside  him,  and  he  saw  that  it 
had  but  a  single  occupant. 

"  H61a,  who  goes  there?"  called  a  brusque  voice 
in  French. 

The  young  man,  who  had  leaned  forward  ready  to 
make  a  thrust  with  his  knife,  drew  back  so  quickly 
as  almost  to  upset  his  frail  barque. 

"  Jacques  Godefroy ! "  he  exclaimed,  while  the 
tension  of  his  nerves  relaxed,  and  already  the  danger 
he  had  with  reason  apprehended  seemed  a  dream  of 
the  dusk. 

"  Jacques  Godefroy  !  Who  would  have  expected 
to  meet  you  here  near  the  redmen's  encampment  at 
this  hour?  " 

"  Bien,  little  did  I  think  'twas  you  I  was  chasing, 
Monsieur  L'ficossais,"  returned  Godefroy,  with  bluff 
good  humor.  "  I  thought  I  was  in  pursuit  of  a  das- 
tardly savage  who  had  made  off  with  some  of  the 
goods  of  the  French.  Ma  foi,  such  things  never  hap- 
pened before  the  coming  of  the  English." 

"  Ay,  not  content  with  the  claim  that  the  Indians 
are  lords  of  Le  Detroit,  Pontiac  and  his  chiefs  assume 


220     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

to  be  lords  of  the  French  as  well,"  answered  Sterling, 
as  the  two  canpes  floated  side  by  side. 

"  Eh  bien,  it  will  soon  be  made  right,"  continued 
Godefroy  ambiguously. 

"  Ah,  I  have  heard  that  Father  Potier  has  called 
upon  the  settlers  to  aid  him  to  stop  this  whirlwind. 
Has  his  influence  prevailed?"  inquired  the  merchant. 
Here  was  another  chance  to  gain  intelligence  to  carry 
back  to  the  stockade. 

"  It  has  at  least  great  weight  with  us,  for  we  look 
upon  the  holy  man  as  a  saint  on  earth,"  admitted  the 
Frenchman ;  and  then,  as  though  he  had  said  too 
much,  he  hastily  changed  the  subject  by  asking, — 

"  But  what  brings  you  up  here  into  the  enemy's 
country,  monsieur?  Do  you  wish  to  make  of  your- 
self a  third  prisoner  in  the  house  of  Meloche  yonder? 
I  might  have  thought  little  Angelique  Cuillerier  re- 
sponsible for  your  rashness,  since  the  whisper  of  a 
'jolie  fillette  '  can  be  heard  farther  than  the  loudest 
call  to  duty.  But  of  late  la  belle  du  Detroit  has  so 
flouted  her  lovers  that  she  may,  in  the  end,  remain 
unwed  like  her  aunt  Josette.  Although,  I  dare  say, 
were  Josette  minded,  she  might  still  marry  Pierre  St. 
Cosme,  the  lover  of  her  youth,  who  for  her  sake  has 
lived  a  hermit's  life  at  La  Grosse  Pointe." 

"  Time,  wind,  maidens,  and  fortune  change  like 
the  moon,  my  friend ;  and  must  not  man  alter  with 
them?"  replied  Sterling,  forcing  a  laugh.  "Are 
there  not  living  along  the  c6te  as  many  charm- 
ing maidens  as  we  might  count  upon  the  fingers  of 
both  hands?  Is  it  strange,  then,  if  I  may  have  been 
drawn  hither  by  a  longing  to  look  again  into  the 
sweet  eyes  of  some  one  among  them?" 

"  No,  no,  of  a  truth  it  is  not  strange,"  rejoined 
Godefroy,  chuckling.  "  In  faith,  I  would  have  run 


COURAGE    BREAKS   ILL   LUCK        221 

as  heedlessly  into  danger  when  I  was  courting  pretty 
Clotilde  Chapoton.  However,  have  a  care,  Mon- 
sieur L'Ecossais,  and  steal  not  up  again  from  the  fort, 
or  your  demoiselle  will  of  a  surety  lose  her  lover,  not 
to  any  other  fillette,  mayhap,  but  to  the  fierce  chief 
Pontiac.  Au  revoir,  au  revoir,  until  a  happier  to- 
morrow." 

Each  had  involuntarily  dipped  his  paddle  in  the 
water,  and  now  their  courses  began  to  diverge,  Ster- 
ling keeping  on  down  the  river,  while  Godefroy 
headed  his  canoe  toward  the  "  c6te  du  nord." 

Presently  he  disappeared  from  view,  and  the 
Scotchman  was  once  more  left  to  his  own  cogita- 
tions. 

These  thoughts  might  have  been  less  bitter  had  he 
known  that,  after  having  so  resolutely  gone  within 
doors  at  the  sound  of  his  flute  call,  Angelique  Cuil- 
lerier  had  hastened  to  the  loft  and  from  her  nook  in 
the  eastern  dormer  peered  out  into  the  twilight  with 
the  hope  that  she  might  gain  a  glimpse  of  his  canoe 
upon  the  river.  It  might  have  been  as  a  soothing 
balm  to  his  wounded  pride,  his  flouted  love,  had  "  the 
little  Indian  spirits  who  carry  the  news  "  whispered  to 
him  the  truth,  that  the  darkness  found  "  la  belle 
Angelique  "  kneeling  upon  the  floor  of  the  dormer, 
weeping  and  sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would 
break. 

Godefroy  had  not  told  Sterling  that  when  the  prin- 
cipal habitants  on  both  sides  of  the  river  received 
word  that  the  missionary  wished  to  confer  with  them, 
they  went  to  him  at  once,  and  it  was  decided  that 
twelve  of  these  Frenchmen  should  visit  the  camp  of 
Pontiac  and  strive  to  induce  the  Ottawa  and  his  chiefs 
to  end  the  war. 


222    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

Soon  afterwards  the  council  was  held  at  Meloche's 
house.  The  Great  Chief  would  not  listen,  however, 
to  any  proposition  tending  toward  peace.  He  re- 
minded the  envoys  of  the  aid  he  had  given  his 
French  brothers  at  the  defeat  of  General  Braddock, 
and  said  it  was  for  their  sakes  as  well  as  for  the 
Indian  nations  that  he  was  resolved  to  drive  the 
English  from  the  strait.  When  reproached  with  the 
wrongs  which  his  followers  daily  committed  against 
the  habitants  in  destroying  their  cattle  and  thereby 
preventing  them  from  working  their  fields,  and  rob- 
bing in  a  manner  hitherto  unknown  among  the  abo- 
rigines, he  promised  that  these  depredations  should 
cease  on  condition  that  the  squaws  be  permitted  to 
cultivate  corn  on  the  fallow  lands  of  the  Canadians. 
The  next  day  the  Indian  women  went  to  work  sow- 
ing the  corn,  the  farmers  having  broken  the  ground 
for  them.  After  this,  by  Pontiac's  order,  the  savages 
did  not  even  cross  the  fields  of  the  French,  but  the 
chief  levied  upon  each  farm  a  tax  for  provisions,  and 
these  stores  were  collected  in  Meloche's  barns,  Bap- 
tiste  being  required  to  distribute  them  as  they  were 
needed  by  the  redmen. 

Gladwin  now  determined  to  send  the  schooner 
which  bore  his  name  to  Niagara  with  despatches  to 
be  forwarded  to  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst  at  New  York, 
informing  him  of  the  situation  and  asking  his  aid. 

As  the  little  ship  sailed  down  the  river,  five  canoes 
manned  by  Indians  put  off  after  her,  and,  with  cruel 
cunning,  Captain  Campbell  was  placed  in  the  bow  of 
the  foremost  craft  to  shield  the  redmen.  When  the 
canoe  was  so  near  the  "  Gladwin  "  that  the  gunners 
must  needs  fire  upon  it,  seeing  that  they  hesitated  to 
do  so,  the  brave  captain  cried  out  sturdily,  — 

"  Pay  no  heed  to  me,  my  friends ;   do  your  duty." 


COURAGE   BREAKS   ILL   LUCK        223 

The  next  moment  a  shot  struck  the  canoe,  and  a 
Pottawattomie  fell  over,  dead.  Thereupon  the  sav- 
ages paddled  swiftly  to  the  shore,  to  be  greeted  when 
they  reached  the  strand  by  many  jeers  from  the 
trader  Cuillerier,  who  from  below  the  fort  had  wit- 
nessed their  precipitate  flight. 

Satisfied  as  Major  Gladwin  was  with  the  result  of 
Sterling's  solitary  reconnoitring  up  the  river,  he 
became  suspicious  upon  learning  of  the  Scotchman's 
encounter  with  Jacques  Godefroy  in  mid-stream. 

"  I  do  not  like  it,  Mr.  Sterling,"  he  said  decisively ; 
"  more  than  one  report  has  come  to  me  that  Gode- 
froy is  in  league  with  Pontiac.  He  is  of  those  French- 
men who  cannot  believe  the  King  at  Versailles 
has  yielded  Canada  to  our  victorious  arms  without 
contemplating  another  blow  in  its  defence.  He 
anticipates  that  this  Indian  warfare  will  result  in  the 
return  of  De  Bellestre  and  the  French  troops  to  Le 
Detroit.  Depend  upon  it,  when  he  pursued  you  it 
was  as  a  spy  of  the  Ottawa.  Only  his  special  friend- 
ship for  you,  sir,  prevented  him  from  taking  you  a 
prisoner  to  the  house  of  Meloche.  Yes,  Jacques 
Godefroy  is  the  ally  of  Pontiac." 

As  though  in  verification  of  the  assertion,  just  at 
this  time  Jacques  Godefroy  utterly  disappeared  from 
the  neighborhood.  No  one  saw  him  go,  no  one 
knew  whither  he  was  gone;  not  even  his  young  wife, 
Madame  Clotilde,  who,  to  the  inquiries  of  his  com- 
rades, as  well  as  to  the  teasing  questions  of  her 
friend  Angelique  Cuillerier,  replied  that  he  had  told 
her  nothing,  save  that  he  was  bound  upon  some 
business  of  his  own,  and  would  return  before  long. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  one  afternoon,  as  Ange- 
lique worked  in  her  garden  on  the  "  c6te  du  nord,"  she 
saw  the  savages  from  the  camp  above  gathering  in 


224    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

large  numbers  on  the  river  bank,  and  calling  to  one 
another  in  great  excitement,  as  they  pointed  to  some 
object  on  the  surface  of  the  strait  coming  up  from 
the  fort. 

Running  to  the  gate  of  the  palisade,  she  looked 
down  Le  Detroit  also,  and  presently  cried  to  the 
other  women  of  the  family  who  had  come  at  her 
summons,  — 

"  See,  see,  Xante  Josette  !  See,  ma  mere,  it  is  the 
smaller  of  the  English  ships  with  her  sails  set;  the 
wind  favors  her.  How  bravely  she  makes  her  way 
against  the  current !  " 

As  the  ship  passed  on  up  the  river  she  approached 
nearer  to  the  shore.  The  Indians  awaited  the  valiant 
little  craft  with  yells  of  delight,  their  fierce  hearts 
exulting  in  the  expectation  that  she  would  soon  run 
aground  and  thus  fall  into  their  clutches. 

"What  new  folly  is  this?"  exclaimed  la  bonne 
mere  in  high  disapproval.  "  For  foolhardiness  the 
British  surpass  all  men  I  have  ever  beheld." 

Now  a  cloud  of  smoke  burst  from  the  side  of  the 
sloop,  and  was  almost  instantaneously  followed  by  a 
booming  cannon  shot. 

At  the  report,  the  women  of  the  bourgeois'  house- 
hold fled  within  doors.  The  "  Beaver  "  was  bombard- 
ing the  camp  of  Pontiac.  From  the  windows  of  the 
farmhouse,  Angelique,  her  mother,  and  Tante  Josette 
saw  the  astonished  warriors  and  the  terrified  squaws 
and  children  fleeing  in  every  direction,  while  the  bark 
huts  were  knocked  down  by  the  balls  like  the  pins  in 
a  game  of  skittles. 

A  superstitious  awe  of  this  White-Winged  Thunder- 
Bird  kept  the  Indians  off  the  river  for  a  day  or  two. 
Taking  advantage  of  the  brief  interval,  Sterling 
resolved  to  make  another  attempt  to  see  Angelique 


COURAGE   BREAKS    ILL   LUCK        225 

Cuillerier.  He  was  still  chafing  with  vexation  against 
her,  but  a  certain  masterfulness  possessed  him,  and 
he  told  himself  that  he  would  continue  to  go  to  the 
c6te  until  fortune  should  grant  him  the  interview  he 
sought. 

The  Scotchman  had  been  in  command  of  the  little 
ship  that  attacked  the  Ottawa  village,  and  won  the 
admiration  of  the  soldier-crew  by  his  coolness  and 
temerity.  On  the  second  evening  after  this  expedi- 
tion, he  let  himself  down  by  a  rope  from  the  deck  of 
the  "  Beaver "  into  a  canoe  which  floated  at  the 
stern,  and  paddled  up  the  stream  as  before.  In  this 
instance  success  favored  the  adventurous,  for,  as  he 
approached  the  shore  near  the  Cuillerier  house,  he 
saw  upon  the  beach  a  girl  in  a  light-colored  frock, 
that  fluttered  in  the  breeze  as  she  ran  to  and  fro, 
sporting  with  a  great  black  dog,  or  casting  sticks  or 
stones  into  the  water,  and  by  imperious  gestures 
ordering  her  playfellow  to  swim  out  after  them.  It 
was,  doubtless,  la  belle  du  Detroit  and  her  trusty 
protector  Trouveur. 

Instead  of  heading  directly  for  the  strand,  he  made 
a  detour,  and  thereby  shot  around  the  point  of  land 
which  made  the  spot  so  retired,  and  came  up  almost 
to  the  feet  of  Angelique  before  she  was  aware  of  his 
proximity. 

As  out  of  the  twilight  there  stepped  this  young 
habitant  whom  she  did  not  know,  she  called  the  dog 
to  her  side  and  turned  to  climb  the  bank,  intending 
to  hasten  home. 

But,  quickly  beaching  his  canoe,  Sterling  sprang 
forward  and,  not  daring  to  address  the  girl  lest  he 
should  alarm  her  still  further,  contented  himself  with 
a  soft  whistle  to  the  dog;  a  summons  to  which  he  had 
familiarized  the  intelligent  animal  in  other  days,  — 
15 


226     THE    HEROINE    OF    THE   STRAIT 

the  call  of  a  Highland  shepherd  to  his  collie.  Trou- 
veur  recognized  it  at  once.  He  stopped  short,  ran  a 
few  paces  toward  the  newcomer,  then  back  to  his 
mistress,  leaping  up  to  touch  her  hand,  catching  at 
her  frock,  and  striving  by  every  means  in  his  power 
to  tell  her  that  here  was  a  friend  whom  she  was 
formerly  glad  to  greet  and  begging  her  to  tarry. 

Puzzled  by  these  queer  antics  on  the  part  of  her 
shaggy  companion,  Angelique  arrested  her  steps.  "  A 
bas,  Trouveur,  a  bas;  why,  what  ails  thee,  boufifon?  " 
she  cried  chidingly,  as  she  faced  the  stranger. 

The  dog  stood  for  a  second,  wagging  his  tail  and 
panting  with  satisfaction  at  having  prevailed.  The 
next  moment  he  bounded  toward  the  man  and  sprang 
upon  him  with  every  demonstration  of  delight. 

"  Who  are  you,  monsieur,  and  by  what  charm  have 
you  drawn  away  the  dog  that  never  before  has  thus 
deserted  me?"  demanded  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier, 
with  an  assumption  of  haughty  fearlessness. 

The  intruder  upon  her  solitude  came  nearer.  "  Par- 
don me,  mademoiselle,  if  I  have  frightened  you," 
he  said,  taking  off  his  wide-brimmed  hat.  "  Even 
Trouveur  knows  I  would  not  willingly  do  so ;  but  I 
have  sworn  to  myself  that  I  will  have  speech  with 
you." 

At  the  sound  of  the  rich,  manly  voice  the  girl 
caught  her  breath,  took  a  rapid  survey  of  her  visitor, 
then  sighed  in  perplexity.  Her  whole  being  had 
thrilled  at  those  welcome  tones,  but  she  feared  that 
her  heart  deceived  her. 

Yet  this  habitant  was  taller  and  of  finer  physique 
than  the  young  Frenchmen  of  the  vicinity,  and  surely, 
that  accent  was  the  same  over  which  she  had  jested 
many  times  !  In  the  dusk,  his  visage  was  now  famil- 
iar, now  strange,  framed  as  it  was  by  the  thick  hair 


COURAGE    BREAKS   ILL   LUCK        227 

falling  in  loose  locks  about  the  neck.  Angelique 
peered  closer. 

"  Monsieur  Sterling!  "  she  exclaimed,  in  astonish- 
ment; then,  quickly  recovering  herself,  laughed 
lightly.  "  Monsieur  Sterling,  and  in  the  garb  of  a 
habitant,  pretending  to  be  what  he  is  not !  Ma  foi, 
how  long  is  it  since  a  certain  cavalier  was  most  prop- 
erly shocked  at  encountering  a  lady  masquerading  in 
strange  attire?  Truly,  now  the  lion  and  the  linnet 
are  caught  in  the  same  snare." 

"  Forgetfulness  is  dumb,  and  I  have  tried  to  school 
myself  to  remember  nothing  of  an  episode  whereof 
I  was  not  meant  to  be  a  witness,"  said  the  young  man 
gravely.  "  As  for  myself,  I  care  not  who  knows 
that  I  have  risked  capture  by  Pontiac  to  obtain  these 
few  moments  with  you." 

The  girl  trembled  slightly. 

"  Have  you  not  come,  rather,  to  spy  upon  my 
father?  "  she  demanded.  "  He  does  not  cringe  to  the 
English.  Have  they  sent  you  to  apprehend  him 
for  the  taking  of  Captain  Campbell  and  Lieutenant 
McDougal  at  his  house  ?  I  assure  you,  he  had  no 
part  in  this  ruse  of  Pontiac." 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  have  accepted  the  hospitality  of 
Antoine  Cuillerier  and  grasped  his  hand  in  friendship; 
I  would  not  come  on  such  an  errand  as  you  mention. 
Of  any  order  for  the  arrest  of  your  father  you  need 
have  little  fear,  however ;  no  doubt  the  commandant 
will  overlook  all  he  dare  for  the  sake  of  the  belle  of 
Le  Detroit.  I  have  come  only  to  see  you.  I  came 
before,  and  gave  the  signal  of  which  I  told  you  in  my 
billet, — three  notes  of  the  pibbigwin,  like  the  cry  of 
the  whip-poor-will.  You  were  on  the  gallery  of  the 
house,  but  you  fled ;  you  would  not  come  to  the 
beach  even  to  wish  me  well." 


228     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

He  spoke  earnestly,  with  something  of  reproach, 
but  more  from  the  fervor  of  his  love.  In  the  gloom 
he  could  not  see  that  Angelique  was  moved.  Striv- 
ing to  conceal  her  emotion,  she  answered  with  mock- 
ing perverseness,  — 

"  In  truth,  yes,  I  heard,  though  I  did  not  come. 
Saw  you  ever  a  bird  fly  direct  to  the  hand  that  would 
imprison  it  ?  You,  who  would  fain  preach  to  a  mad- 
cap the  behavior  best  suited  to  a  maid,  do  you  think 
it  would  become  her  to  be  over-ready  to  catch  up 
the  handkerchief  a  gallant  happens  to  cast  at  her  in 
token  that  she  pleases  his  fancy  ?  Get  you  to  some 
other  demoiselle  with  your  pride  and  your  minstrelsy, 
monsieur." 

Had  Sterling  been  better  versed  in  the  ways  of  a 
maid,  he  might  have  read  in  her  petulance  a  resent- 
ment of  his  former  aloofness.  As  it  was,  the  little 
winged  god  that,  Puck-like,  makes  sport  of  mankind, 
prompted  him  to  an  answer  which  in  part  disarmed 
her. 

"Forgive  me  if  I  have  been  too  importunate,"  he 
said,  with  the  pride  that  apes  humility.  "  By  the 
pibbigwin  or  flute  of  polished  bone,  the  Indian  wooes 
the  maiden  of  his  love." 

Angelique  relented.  His  persistency  and  reckless- 
ness in  coming  again  to  the  c6te  evoked  her  admira- 
tion, although  she  feared  for  his  safety.  Nevertheless 
she  continued,  taking  him  to  task  in  the  wilful  man- 
ner wherewith  a  girl  who  is  sure  of  her  lover  con- 
trives to  make  his  love  at  once  a  joy  and  a  torment 
to  him. 

When  a  woman  begins  to  look  kindly  upon  a  suitor, 
does  she  not  ever  coyly  scheme  and  parade  her  pret- 
tiest coquetries  to  lure  him  to  repeat  over  and  over 
the  sweet  words  "I  love  you,"  and  plead  once  more 


COURAGE    BREAKS    ILL   LUCK        229 

for  the  love  she  hides  from  him  only  to  lead  him  to 
ask  for  it  again  ? 

"  For  one  so  given  to  fine  language,  monsieur,"  said 
the  demoiselle,  with  a  fascinating  pout,  which,  of  a 
pity,  he  did  not  see,  "  you  showed  little  wit  in  your 
choice  of  a  bearer  for  your  billet  doux." 

"  How  so  ?  Navarre  reported  to  me  that  you  re- 
ceived it  most  graciously,"  protested  Sterling,  marvel- 
ling at  this  new  humor  of  his  sweetheart. 

"  Most  graciously,  to  be  sure.  And  did  you  flatter 
yourself  that  my  complaisance  was  all  for  your  hon- 
ored self,  monsieur  ?  Ma  foi,  what  but  graciousness 
could  a  poor  maid  oppose  to  the  spite  of  a  for- 
mer suitor  who  would  prove  that  he  loves  her  no 
longer?  " 

"  Had  I  not  supposed  you  utterly  indifferent  to 
Navarre,  I  should  not,  of  course,  have  asked  him  to 
deliver  my  message,"  said  the  Scotchman  coolly. 
Ang61ique  tossed  her  head.  He  had  seized  his 
advantage. 

"  A  fig  for  such  nonsense,"  she  cried.  "  Indeed,  I 
do  not  care  for  Robishe  as  a  lover  at  all;  and  it 
would  matter  nothing  to  me  were  he  fifty  times  be- 
trothed to  Archange  de  Mersac." 

"  Yet  for  such  paltry  quibbles  as  these  you  would 
not  meet  and  speak  with  me,  although  I  was  forced 
to  overcome  countless  obstacles  to  keep  the  tryst 
I  proposed." 

The  reproach  warned  Angelique  that  she  had  best 
trifle  no  longer.  There  was  no  foretelling  when  she 
should  see  Sterling  again,  and  here  she  was,  wasting 
the  priceless  minutes  they  could  spend  together,  in 
idle  cavilling.  She  would  not  have  him  go  away 
thinking  her  the  heartless  malapert  she  had  chosen 
to  appear. 


23o    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  It  was  not  altogether  because  of  these  passing 
grievances  that  I  did  not  come  to  the  strand,"  she 
began  —  broke  off — and  presently  continued  in  a 
voice  that  shook  with  emotion.  "  Mon  Dieu,  do  you 
not  see,  monsieur,  my  heart  was  filled  with  dread  lest 
in  your  boldness  you  would  fall  into  the  power  of 
Pontiac?  When  I  heard  your  signal,  my  one  thought 
was,  '  If  I  go  to  the  beach,  he  will  linger  and  be  taken 
captive ;  if  I  do  not  respond  to  his  wood-bird's  call, 
he  will  leave  in  angry  haste ;  thus  he  will  escape 
those  who  lie  in  wait  for  spies  from  the  stockade.' 
Oh,  I  could  not,  I  dared  not  come.  And  yet,"  she 
added  naively,  "  I  have  walked  on  the  sands  here 
every  evening  since." 

"  Angelique,  my  dearest  one,"  cried  Sterling,  taking 
the  girl's  cold  hands  in  his,  "  I  have  never  loved  you 
so  fondly  as  at  this  moment,  when  at  last  I  learn  from 
your  own  lips  that  I  have  won  your  love." 

"Chut,  chut!  how,  Monsieur  L'Ecossais?"  she 
stammered  in  saucy  defiance,  attempting  to  shake 
off  his  clasp. 

"  Do  not  seek  to  deny  it,  beloved,"  he  went  on, 
intoxicated  with  happiness.  "  Unconsciously,  in  your 
fear  for  my  safety  you  have  told  me  all.  Your  heart 
has  spoken  at  last,  and  now  I  understand  that  the 
teasing  coquetry  which  so  vexed  yet  allured  me  was 
but  a  woman's  shield  against  the  shafts  of  love.  A 
real  coquette  would  have  kept  the  tryst ;  did  her 
cavalier  rush  into  danger  for  her  sake,  his  reckless- 
ness would  be  but  another  tribute  to  her  charms. 
You  thought,  not  of  yourself,  but  of  me,  sweetheart, 
therefore  I  know  you  love  me." 

He  would  have  clasped  her  to  his  breast,  but  she 
drew  back,  and  the  dog  Trouveur  gave  a  warning 
growl. 


COURAGE   BREAKS   ILL   LUCK        231 

"  You  have  forgotten  the  evening  of  the  ball  given 
to  Sir  William  Johnson?"  she  questioned,  with  down- 
cast eyes. 

"  I  was  audacious  to  take  the  tone  I  did,"  he  ac- 
knowledged, —  a  notable  admission  for  one  so  un- 
yielding as  Sterling. 

"  Perhaps  you  were  not  altogether  wrong,"  faltered 
Angelique,  conceding  a  point  also.  "  Have  you  con- 
quered your  distrust  of  me  because  I  went  in  disguise 
to  the  fort?  For  I  must  still  keep  from  you  what  I 
said  to  Major  Gladwin,"  she  continued,  with  recovered 
firmness. 

Sterling  hesitated.  It  was  indeed  a  test  for  an 
ardent  lover. 

"  Angelique,  I  would  tell  you  everything  that  con- 
cerns myself.  What  secret  is  there  between  you  and 
Major  Gladwin  which  you  cannot  share  with  the  man 
who  hopes  as  soon  as  may  be  to  make  you  his  wife?  " 
he  persisted. 

"  Were  we  in  a  canoe  on  the  strait  at  midday,  with 
the  sun  looking  forth  from  a  cloudless  sky,  and  not  a 
creature  nigh  but  our  two  selves,  I  might  tell  you," 
she  replied.  "But  no,  perhaps  I  would  not.  If  you 
really  loved  me,  you  would  trust  me  too." 

"  Dearest,  I  trust  you  entirely.  I  love  you  with  all 
my  heart,"  he  answered.  "  Say  you  will  meet  me 
at  the  mission  chapel,  where  Father  Potier  will 
unite  us?" 

The  demoiselle  laughed  again,  but  not  unkindly,  at 
his  impetuosity.  This  was  more  like  the  gay  flute- 
playing  Sterling  of  old  than  the  grave,  stern  man  he 
had  become  of  late. 

"  Phoufif,  monsieur, "  she  said  half  tenderly,  "  it  is 
to  the  cure  of  Ste.  Anne's  you  should  go  under  such 
circumstances.  But,  I  beg  of  you,  say  no  more  to 


232    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

me  of  love  or  marriage  until  the  siege  of  the  fort  is 
raised  and  Le  Detroit  is  at  peace." 

The  uneasiness  of  Trouveur  continued. 

"Juste  ciel,  some  one  is  coming!  Go,  monsieur," 
she  conjured. 

"  Tush !  the  dog  but  grudges  me  the  attention  of 
his  mistress,"  insisted  the  young  man.  "  Say  at  least 
that  I  may  still  hope?" 

"  Monsieur,  you  need  not  despair.  Now  go,  and 
do  not  come  again,  for  I  shall  not  answer  the  call  of 
the  whip-poor-will." 

She  started  abruptly  toward  the  house,  but,  having 
gone  a  few  paces,  retraced  her  steps  to  where  her 
lover  still  stood,  motionless. 

"  If  there  is  any  plan  to  rescue  Captain  Campbell, 
I  will  do  what  I  can  to  aid  it,"  she  said,  in  a  cautious 
whisper.  "  I  go  sometimes  to  the  house  of  Madame 
M^loche  to  bring  him  what  cheer  I  may.  A  strange 
presentiment  regarding  him  hangs  over  me.  I  would 
gladly  see  him  escape." 

Her  words  recalled  to  Sterling  a  plan  he  had 
formed  for  the  rescue  of  the  captain.  Bending  his 
head  close  to  hers,  he  told  her  wherein  he  needed 
her  help. 

The  dog  barked  fiercely,  running  up  and  down  the 
strand. 

"  Yes,  I  understand.  I  will  arrange  everything. 
Go,  go  !  "  she  cried. 

Sterling  caught  the  girl  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her. 

"  It  is  our  betrothal,"  he  said  fervently,  adding,  as 
she  half  demurred,  "  well,  at  least  by  this  kiss  I  plight 
my  troth  to  you." 

Then  he  sprang  into  his  canoe  and  put  off  from  the 
shore.  Not  a  whit  too  soon,  either;  for  the  next 
moment  a  musket  shot,  crisp  and  sharp,  rang  out 


COURAGE   BREAKS   ILL   LUCK        233 

upon  the  air,  and  Angelique  felt  a  bullet  whiz  past, 
as,  with  Trouveur  close  beside  her,  she  ran  with  all 
speed  to  the  house. 

"  Thank  God  he  is  gone,"  she  ejaculated,  when  she 
had  gained  her  nook  in  the  loft.  "  May  the  great 
warrior  archangel  Michael  go  with  him  as  his  safe- 
guard !  " 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEENTH 

THE  OTTAWA'S  HOUR 

THE  last  days  of  May,  "  the  Moon  of  Leaves," 
were  come,  yet  the  intrepid  little  band  of  troops 
at  Le  Detroit  remained  without  tidings  of  the  spring 
convoy  which  was  to  bring  them  stores  and  reinforce- 
ments from  the  east.  Their  provisions  were  nearly 
exhausted,  and  but  for  honest  Jacques  Baby  their 
plight  would  have  been  desperate.  Baby  had  ar- 
ranged with  Major  Gladwin  that  he  would  bring 
hogs  and  beeves  to  the  stockade  whenever  notified 
of  the  great  need  of  the  besieged  by  the  swinging  of 
a  glowing  lantern  near  the  water  plank  after  dark,  or 
at  other  times  by  the  display  of  the  ensign  of  St. 
George  from  the  flagstaff.  Thus,  in  answer  to  the 
signals,  he  often  landed  supplies  close  to  the  river 
gate  at  dead  of  night. 

Day  after  day  the  officers  watched  the  lower  strait 
through  their  lenses  in  the  hope  of  espying,  far  down 
near  Lake  Erie,  some  cloud  upon  the  water  that, 
gathering  form  and  bulk,  might  reveal  itself  as  the 
long-awaited  fleet  of  barges  from  the  fort  above  the 
cataract  of  the  Niagara. 

Daily  James  Sterling  went  the  round  of  the  ram- 
parts to  make  sure  that  the  butts  and  water-casks 
at  the  corners  were  kept  filled  with  water,  for  ever 
and  anon  report  reached  the  commandant  of  some 
attempt  on  the  part  of  Pontiac  to  set  fire  to  the  fort. 
On  one  particular  morning  the  Scotchman  found  the 


THE    OTTAWA'S    HOUR  235 

Irish  soldier  O'Desmond  doing  sentry  duty  on  the 
patrol-way  of  the  flag  bastion,  which  looked  toward 
the  river. 

"  I  see  you  are  one  of  those  who  oppose  a  bold 
front  to  adversity,  soldier,"  said  he.  "  You  manage 
to  be  cheerful,  even  on  half  rations." 

O'Desmond  glanced  along  the  barrel  of  his  gun, 
and  grinned  comically.  He  was  a  good-looking 
young  fellow,  with  a  shock  of  curling  black  locks,  a 
round,  good-humored  face,  blue  eyes  that  had  ever 
a  laugh  in  them,  and  a  reckless,  dare-devil  air. 

"  Oh,  't  is  not  the  scantiness  of  the  rations  at  all 
that  I  mind,  sir,"  he  answered,  "  though  I  will  say, 
a  fare  made  up  of  a  little  of  everything  and  not 
much  of  anything  is  like  to  give  one  confusion  of  the 
stomach.  And  that  same  reminds  me  of  a  story  I  Ve 
heard  me  father  tell  many  a  time.  Did  ye  ever  taste 
olives,  Mr.  Sterling?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  merchant  simply,  "  once,  at 
a  dinner  in  London." 

"  Well,  I  never  did,  but  I  have  a  notion  what  they're 
like  from  what  me  father  said.  He  fought  with  the 
French  in  the  Low  Countries,  and  was  servant  to  the 
captain  of  his  regiment,  as  fine  an  Irish  gentleman  as 
ever  lived  in  the  ould  land  or  out  of  it.  Well,  one 
evening —  'twas  after  the  fall  of  Tournay  —  the  cap- 
tain gave  a  dinner  in  his  tent,  and  me  father  waited 
upon  the  officers.  The  dinner  was  not  so  much  to 
boast  of,  but  on  the  table  was  a  little  dish  of  fruit  of 
a  beautiful  green  color ;  leastwise,  me  father  thought 
't  was  fruit,  but  he  knew  well  enough  afterwards  't  was 
a  dish  of  olives,  no  less. 

"After  the  guests  were  gone,  the  captain  said, 
'You  did  well,  Dennis;  I'm  proud  of  ye.  Will  ye 
have  something  to  keep  up  your  spirits?' 


236    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

"  '  For  the  sake  of  drinkin'  your  health,  sir,  I  will, 
thank  ye,'  says  me  father. 

"  So  the  captain  poured  a  cup  of  Flemish  sack, 
and  was  just  handing  it  over  when  he  stopped  short. 
'  Oh,  take  one  of  these  first/  says  he,  pointing  to  the 
green  fruit  that  me  father  had  been  eying.  '  Take 
one  of  these;  'twill  improve  the  flavor  of  the  wine.' 

"  So  me  father  reached  out,  picked  up  an  olive, 
and  took  a  bite  out  of  it,  thinking  to  find  it  as  sweet 
as  a  ripe  gooseberry. 

"  '  By  the  powers,  what  is  the  matter  with  ye,  man?  ' 
asked  the  captain,  with  a  roar  of  laughter.  For  me 
father  was  gaspin'  an'  sputterin'  so  you  'd  think  he 
was  goin'  into  a  fit ;  but  't  was  all  on  account  of  the 
olive. 

" '  Don't  ye  like  it,  ye  omathaun? '  roared  the  cap- 
tain again. 

"Me  father,  rest  his  soul,  had  never  a  laugh  out  of 
him.  But,  having  swallowed  the  pesky  thing  at  last, 
he  says,  very  solemn-like,  looking  at  the  dish  o' 
olives,  '  May  the  Lord  forgive  the  man  that  put  salt 
sea-water  on  tkim  plums  !  '  " 

Sterling  laughed  heartily. 

"  O'Desmond,  how  is  it  that  you,  a  descendant,  I 
dare  say,  of  one  of  the  victors  of  Fontenoy,  serve  in 
the  ranks  of  the  British  army?"  he  asked. 

"  'T  is  the  tale  of  many  another,"  returned  the 
Irishman,  "  the  story  of  an  ould  mother  at  home, 
poverty  at  the  door,  and  a  love  of  soldiering. 
Though  in  faith  me  mother  would  rather  have  had 
me  take  up  with  any  other  calling,  shure  misfortu- 
nately,  there  is  little  chance  for  a  lad  to  get  on  in  the 
ould  land,  and  the  army  was  the  first  means  to  earn 
an  honest  livin'  that  offered,  sir  —  " 

Here  O'Desmond,  who  still  kept  an  eye  on  the 


THE    OTTAWA'S    HOUR  237 

river,  broke  off  suddenly  in  his  explanation  and  cried 
out  with  glad  enthusiasm, — 

"See  yonder,  Mr.  Sterling!  What  is  that  black 
shadow  afar  down  beyond  the  Pointe  de  Montreal  ? 
If  I'm  not  blind  as  a  bat  't  is  a  barge,  and  there's 
another  behind  it.  They  can  be  no  less  than  the  ships 
coming  up  from  the  fort  above  the  Big  Falls,  glory 
be  to  God  !  " 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Sterling,  after  he  had 
watched  the  distant  objects  for  a  few  minutes.  "  They 
are  certainly  barges.  Yes,  there  is  a  third." 

"  A  ship  !  a  ship  !  "  cried  the  Irishman,  at  the  full 
strength  of  his  lungs.  Like  a  bugle  blast  the  call 
aroused  the  little  settlement.  O'Desmond  ran  to 
notify  the  officer  of  the  guard,  the  latter  reported  to 
his  superior,  and  the  commandant,  with  his  subal- 
terns, the  garrison,  and  all  the  people  of  the  town, 
mounted  the  bastion,  and  broke  into  hearty  cheers  as 
the  little  fleet  came  up  the  strait.  The  drums  sounded 
a  triumphant  greeting;  the  small  band  of  the  fort 
played  "  Rule  Britannia." 

All  at  once,  however,  Major  Gladwin,  who  was 
viewing  the  boats  through  his  lens,  exclaimed 
forcibly,  — 

"  Hist,  damn  it,  stop  that  music !  Zounds,  will 
some  one  go  among  those  fools  upon  the  strand  and 
bid  them  cease  those  shouts  of  rejoicing  !  " 

Those  whose  eyes  were  drawn  to  him  by  astonish- 
ment at  his  vehemence  saw  to  their  amazement  that 
his  usually  unflinching  hand  trembled  slightly,  and 
his  ruddy  English  complexion  had  grown  pale. 

"  Look,  Mr.  Sterling !  "  he  said,  handing  the  glass  to 
his  captain  of  militia. 

"  By  my  faith,  those  dark  figures  in  the  barque  can 
be  only  savages  or  demons,"  ejaculated  the  merchant, 


238     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

with  the  horror  of  a  brave  man  who  is  confronted 
with  a  tragedy. 

And  now,  in  place  of  an  answering  salute  from  the 
boats,  came  a  fierce  war-whoop. 

In  the  second  and  third  barges  were  a  score  of 
soldiers  who,  deprived  of  their  weapons,  were  com- 
pelled to  act  as  rowers  for  the  armed  Indians  who 
stood  over  them,  while  bands  of  redmen  followed  the 
fleet  along  the  southern  shore.  In  the  foremost  boat 
there  were  only  four  soldiers  and  three  savages.  As 
it  approached  the  "  Beaver,"  which  lay  in  mid-stream, 
Sterling  cried,  — 

"  See  what  is  going  on  yonder !  " 

Clearly  two  of  the  soldiers  had  resolved  to  escape 
or  die  in  the  attempt.  Rising  as  though  to  change 
places  in  the  boat,  each  seized  his  Indian  guard,  and 
in  a  terrible  struggle  for  life  the  savages  and  the  white 
men  grappled  with  one  another. 

"  Begorra,  that 's  well  done,"  broke  out  O'Desmond. 
"  Look,  sir,  one  of  the  men  has  thrown  his  enemy  into 
the  river  and  now  falls  upon  the  third  redskin.  Shure, 
he  is  a  giant  in  strength." 

"  But  his  comrade  has  fallen  into  the  water  and  the 
red  fiend  clings  to  him  like  a  devil  fish,"  sighed  the 
merchant. 

As  the  first  soldier  and  his  foe  gained  their  feet, 
the  sunlight  flashed  upon  a  knife  in  the  grasp  of  the 
savage.  The  next  moment  like  a  sword  in  the  sun- 
beam it  descended,  and  the  white  man  fell  lifeless  into 
the  water. 

The  second  soldier,  having  hit  the  Indian  on  the 
head  with  his  paddle,  was  swimming  for  the  shore. 
Sterling  and  others  ran  down  to  the  strand  and 
brought  in  the  poor  man  who  had  fought  so  well;  but 
the  brave  fellow  had  also  been  stabbed  by  his  guard, 


THE   OTTAWA'S    HOUR  239 

and  lived  only  half  an  hour.  Meantime  the  two 
soldiers  who  remained  in  the  bateau  pulled  for  the 
"  Beaver,"  shouting  for  aid.  The  Indians  on  the  south- 
ern shore  fired  upon  them,  and  presently  the  water  was 
black  with  canoes,  bullets  whizzed  about  the  prisoners, 
and  their  doom  seemed  certain,  when  from  the  sloop 
came  the  roar  of  a  swivel  gun.  The  savages  drew  off 
in  terror,  a  second  cannon  shot  scattered  the  red- 
men  on  the  shore,  and  the  two  soldiers  reached  the 
vessel. 

"  Truly,"  exclaimed  Major  Gladwin,  "  each  of  those 
men  is  a  living  example  that  Fortune  favors  the 
brave." 

By  their  good  fight  they  had  not  only  saved  their 
own  lives,  but  brought  with  the  boat  several  barrels 
of  pork  and  provisions  for  the  hungry  garrison.  Un- 
luckily, the  Indians  landed  the  other  prisoners  below 
the  "  Beaver,"  and  the  watchers  at  the  stockade  sadly 
saw  the  captives  led  along  the  southern  shore  toward 
the  former  site  of  the  Ottawa  village. 

The  next  afternoon,  as  the  Scotchman  sat  at  the 
desk  in  his  warehouse,  he  heard  a  commotion  in  the 
town,  while  from  the  forest  came  a  weird  sound  like 
the  cry  of  a  pack  of  wolves.  Going  out,  he  beheld 
the  eastern  bastion  thronged  with  townspeople  and 
soldiers,  whose  gaze  was  turned  in  horror  toward  the 
woods,  from  which  issued  a  long  line  of  warriors, 
each  painted  black  and  carrying  a  pole  from  which 
waved  a  pennon  that  the  spectators  knew  only  too 
well  to  be  a  human  scalp. 

While  they  watched  the  awful  scene  a  young  habi- 
tant knocked  for  admittance  at  the  wicket  of  the 
palisade,  and  Sterling  was  summoned  to  the  gate,  a 
part  of  his  duty  being  to  keep  note  of  the  comings 
and  goings  of  the  French. 


24o     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

The  newcomer  from  the  c6te  was  Jasmin  de 
Joncaire. 

"  What  news?  what  news?  "  shouted  the  people  in 
the  street. 

"  Dire  enough,  but  it  is  first  for  the  ear  of  the  com- 
mandant," he  returned,  as  they  crowded  around  him. 

"  Make  way,"  ordered  Sterling,  drawing  his  sword 
as  a  sign  of  his  authority. 

The  throng  parted,  and  Jasmin  followed  the  captain 
of  militia  to  the  British  headquarters. 

"  Well,  sir,  what  intelligence  do  you  bring?"  Major 
Gladwin  demanded  of  him,  with  the  brusqueness  of 
keen  anxiety. 

"  Monsieur,  your  English  fort  of  Sandusky  has 
been  captured  by  the  bad  band  of  Hurons,  and  the 
greater  number  of  the  garrison  have  been  scalped," 
began  the  Frenchman.  "  Those  brought  here  yester- 
day were  taken  across  in  canoes  to  Pontiac's  camp, 
and  forced  to  disembark,  one  by  one,  while  the  Indians 
shot  at  them.  When,  to  avoid  the  arrows,  they  threw 
themselves  upon  the  ground,  they  were  forced  by 
blows  to  get  upon  their  feet  once  more,  until  they  fell 
dead.  Others  were  flayed  alive  with  gunflints  or 
maimed ;  others  still  were  tied  to  stakes,  and  the 
children  burned  them  with  slow  fires.  Indian  women 
joined  in  the  barbarous  sport,  but  some  few  pitied  the 
prisoners  and,  as  their  lords  grew  drunk  from  the  rum 
found  among  the  captured  stores,  and  fiercer  from 
their  cannibal  feast,  these  women  hid  away  the 
weapons,  fearing  a  general  massacre." 

Gladwin  averted  his  face. 

"Did  none  of  the  white  men  escape  this  terrible 
fate?  "  he  inquired  hoarsely,  with  an  effort  to  preserve 
his  outward  composure. 

"  But  one,  a  well-favored  young  man  who  was,  I 


THE   OTTAWA'S   HOUR  241 

surmise,  in  charge  of  the  post.  He  is  agile  and 
strong.  I  should  like  to  see  him  play  at  lacrosse,  or 
run  a  race." 

"  Lieutenant  Paully.     He  still  lives?  " 

"Yes,  monsieur  le  commandant,  and  is  a  happy 
bridegroom,"  answered  the  debonair  Canadian,  who 
found  it  difficult  to  be  grave,  even  under  these  gloomy 
circumstances.  "  The  lieutenant  was  condemned  to 
be  burned  alive,  and  his  captors  had  taken  away  his 
pistols ;  but  Cupid  aimed  a  shaft  in  his  defence.  In 
the  Ottawa  camp  there  is  a  woman  named  Pah-puk- 
kee-na,  the  Grass-hopper.  Pah-puk-kee-na's  husband 
died  not  long  since.  Looking  upon  the  officer,  she 
liked  his  yellow  hair  and  blue  eyes.  '  Ha  ha !  The 
white  chief  is  too  comely  to  burn,'  she  cried,  when  the 
braves,  women,  and  children  returned  with  the  brush- 
wood they  had  gathered  for  the  fire.  '  I  adopt  him 
for  my  husband.'  There  was  muttering  among  the 
savages  that  they  were  cheated  of  their  sport,  but  the 
woman's  husband  had  been  killed  in  battle,  and  she 
had  a  right  to  choose  another  from  among  their  cap- 
tives. The  Englishman  seemed  scarce  better  pleased 
with  this  new  turn  of  his  fortunes,  but,  by  the  '  Red 
Dwarf,'  they  hurried  him  back  to  the  river,  and 
plunged  him  in  the  current,  that  the  white  blood 
might  be  washed  from  his  veins.  Henceforth  he  is 
an  Ottawa  warrior." 

So  great  had  been  the  tension  of  mind  and  nerves 
of  the  commandant  that  now,  as  a  vent  to  his  feel- 
ings, he  laughed  long,  though  mirthlessly,  as  his 
imagination  pictured  the  unwilling  bridegroom.  Ster- 
ling joined  in  his  hilarity,  yet  the  brain  of  each  was 
soon  busy  with  plans  for  the  rescue  of  this  new-fledged 
brave,  while  their  souls  were  moved  by  the  story  of 
his  sufferings. 

16 


242    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  Fort  St.  Joseph  has  also  fallen  into  the  hands  of 
the  Indians,  monsieur,"  pursued  Jasmin;  "the  garri- 
son was  slain  likewise,  and  a  scout  reports  that  the 
returning  savages  are  bringing  the  officers  here  as 
prisoners  for  Pontiac." 

A  look  of  high  courage  settled  upon  the  counte- 
nance of  Gladwin  as  he  paced  the  floor  with  hand 
upon  his  sword,  as  though  he  longed  to  strike  at  the 
enemy. 

De  Joncaire  withdrew  unnoticed. 

Suddenly  the  major  stopped  short  in  his  walk. 

"  Mr.  Sterling,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  the  bell  of  Ste. 
Anne's  is  mute  of  late.  Why  is  it  that  the  good  saint 
no  longer  lifts  up  her  sweet  voice  to  ask  the  help  of 
Heaven  upon  our  arms?" 

Was  it  from  pretty  Angelique  Cuillerier  that  the 
commandant  had  learned  this  poetic  Canadian  simile? 
Not  so  long  ago  Sterling  would  have  been  glum 
enough  at  the  suspicion,  but  now  the  thought  caused 
him  only  a  passing  sense  of  annoyance,  as  he  answered 
interrogatively,  — 

"  Is  it  not  always  so  in  time  of  siege,  sir  ?  Mon- 
sieur Bocquet  told  me  when  first  we  were  cooped  up 
here  that  he  would  no  longer  have  the  bell  sounded, 
lest  the  enemy  should  learn  from  it  the  hours  when 
the  people  assemble  in  the  church." 

"  Egad,  the  Recollet  is  to  be  commended  for  his 
consideration,"  rejoined  the  major.  "Nevertheless, 
since  the  French  go  to  their  services  armed,  and  my 
garrison  remains  always  on  guard,  you  may  tell  the 
cure,  from  me,  to  have  the  bell  rung  as  before.  It 
will  strike  more  terror  into  the  hearts  of  the  savages 
than  a  volley  from  our  cannon ;  for  it  will  remind 
them  that  we  place  our  reliance  in  the  God  of  armies." 


THE    OTTAWA'S    HOUR  243 

It  was  Sunday  morning,  a  cloudless  morning  in 
mid-June.  The  blue  skies  looked  brightly  down  upon 
their  own  reflection  in  the  sapphire  waters  of  the 
strait;  and  so  abloom  was  the  plain  with  "  boutons 
d'ors"  that  Megissogwon,  the  Great  Pearl  Feather, 
the  Indian  manitou  of  wealth,  might  be  thought  to 
have  oversown  the  green  meadows  with  shining  gold 
pieces.  The  forests  were  robed  in  the  full  majesty  of 
their  kingly  state.  Over  all  the  region  of  Le  Detroit 
reigned  a  tranquil  stillness;  a  quiet  that  was  yet  me- 
lodious with  the  song  of  the  yellow  warbler,  the 
thrush,  the  robin,  and  the  Recollet  bird,  so  called  by 
the  Canadians  because  of  his  cowl-like  crest  and  his 
sweet  voice. 

The  bell  of  Ste.  Anne's  was  ringing  for  the  Grand 
Mass,  and,  in  obedience  to  the  summons,  the  French 
came  forth  from  their  houses ;  the  traders  in  their 
coats  of  red,  green,  or  blue  cloth,  knickerbocker 
trousers,  silver-buckled  shoes,  and  three-cornered 
hats ;  the  engages,  voyageurs,  and  coureurs  de  bois, 
shabby,  yet  making  a  brave  showing  with  their  scarlet 
caps  and  sashes,  each  man  carrying  his  firelock.  The 
women,  tricked  out  in  such  simple  finery  as  they  pos- 
sessed, were  pleasing  to  the  eye,  though  a  second 
glance  revealed  upon  the  smiling  faces  of  dames  and 
demoiselles  the  wan  look  that  comes  of  anxious  days 
and  nights  of  watching. 

At  this  the  most  peaceful  quarter  of  an  hour  of  the 
forenoon,  an  unexpected  visitor  knocked  at  the  gate 
of  old  Fort  Pontchartrain.  He  was  a  man  of  middle 
age,  a  stranger  at  Le  Detroit;  and,  although  he 
was  fresh  shaven,  and  the  stains  of  travel  had  been 
removed  as  well  as  might  be  from  his  much-worn 
black  robe,  the  haggard  lines  in  his  face  told  that 
he  was  still  weary  from  a  long  and  arduous  voyage. 


244     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

"  I  am  Pierre  du  Janois,  Jesuit  missionary  to  the 
Ottavvas  of  the  north,  and  I  have  business  with  Major 
Gladwin,"  he  said  to  the  sentry. 

The  latter,  forthwith  beckoning  to  Robishe  Navarre, 
who  was  on  his  way  to  the  church,  asked  him  to  carry 
the  message  to  headquarters. 

The  young  man  returned  betimes. 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  come  with  me,  mon  pere,"  he 
cried,  doffing  his  cap.  "  Major  Gladwin  sends  you  his 
respectful  compliments,  and  bids  me  say  he  awaits  an 
interview  with  you." 

Together  they  passed  down  the  main  street,  the 
soldiers  on  duty  staring  as  though  the  black-robed 
figure  were  an  apparition ;  the  townspeople  round- 
eyed,  the  men  uncovering  their  heads  as  Navarre  had 
done ;  the  women  courtesying  and  asking  the  blessing 
of  the  man  of  God. 

When  the  priest  and  his  guide  reached  the  council 
room,  the  commandant  dismissed  Robishe  by  a  sum- 
mary nod  of  the  head;  even  in  small  matters  he 
lacked  the  art  to  conciliate  the  French.  Monsieur 
Janois  he  received,  however,  with  marked  deference. 

"You  are  welcome  to  Le  Detroit,  reverend  father," 
he  said,  grasping  the  hand  of  the  missionary,  "  al- 
though 't  is  a  surprise  to  me  that  you  are  here.  When 
and  with  what  expedition  did  you  come?  " 

"  Yesterday  at  noon  I  was  landed  on  the  south- 
ern shore  a  mile  above  this  place,"  answered  Du 
Janois,  the  smile  of  greeting  still  lingering  upon  his 
rugged  features,  which,  from  exposure  to  the  inclem- 
ency of  many  winters  and  the  heat  of  the  sun  in 
summer,  were  almost  the  color  of  dried  deerskin.  "  I 
voyaged  down  the  lakes  in  company  with  a  band  of 
Ottawas  and  Sauteurs,  and,  having  spent  the  night  at 
the  Huron  Mission,  am  come  to  you  with  a  letter 


THE    OTTAWA'S    HOUR  245 

from  the  commandant  at  Michilimackinac.  I  regret 
to  be  the  bearer  of  unwelcome  news,  monsieur.  What 
is  it  your  Shakespeare  says  —  '  The  tongue  of  such  a 
one  sounds  ever  after  as  a  sullen  bell !  ' ' 

Therewith  he  took  from  his  belt  the  important 
paper,  and  handed  it  to  the  major. 

Father  Janois  had  spoken  in  English,  but  with  a 
quaint  French  accent. 

With  the  forced  composure  and  natural  reserve  which 
renders  the  British  soldier  cool  and  self-possessed 
under  almost  all  circumstances,  Gladwin  begged  his 
guest  to  be  seated,  and  withdrew  to  the  window  to 
read  the  missive  from  Captain  Etherington,  his  brother 
officer  at  the  post  of  the  Upper  Lakes.  He  needed 
all  his  self-control,  for  it  told  of  the  Indians'  capture 
of  Fort  Michilimackinac  under  the  ruse  of  a  game 
of  ball,  and  the  massacre  of  the  men ;  begged  for  am- 
munition and  provisions ;  explained  that  the  priest 
had  been  directed  not  to  land  directly  at  the  stockade 
of  Le  Detroit,  and  requested  the  major  to  speed  the 
homeward  journey  of  the  missionary. 

"  111  news  it  is,"  acknowledged  Gladwin,  tapping 
the  paper  with  his  hand,  as  he  came  back  to  the 
centre  of  the  room  and  took  a  chair  facing  Father 
Janois.  "  What  you  have  not  learned  from  obser- 
vation of  our  condition  at  Le  Detroit,  sir,  has  no 
doubt  been  told  you  by  Monsieur  Potier.  You  see 
that  at  present  I  can  furnish  no  help  to  Michili- 
mackinac. I  will  not  ask  what  other  affairs  have 
brought  you  here.  When  you  are  about  to  return  to 
the  north,  be  so  good  as  to  give  me  word,  that  I  may 
intrust  to  you  an  answer  for  the  commandant,  de- 
scribing our  dilemma,  but  assuring  him  that  if  he  and 
the  few  of  his  men  who  are  left  can  hold  out  a  little 
longer  we  will  send  them  aid  at  the  first  opportunity," 


246     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  the  priest,  rising  and  bowing 
with  a  courtliness  he  had  not  forgotten  during  the 
long  years  he  had  spent  in  the  wilderness,  "  though 
you  refrain  from  asking  the  object  of  my  visit,  I  will 
tell  you :  I  came  to  bring  this  word  from  Captain 
Etherington." 

"  You,  a  Frenchman,  have  voyaged  many  leagues 
and  braved  death  at  the  hands  of  your  savage  com- 
panions, to  ask  succor  for  the  English,  your  heredi- 
tary foes,  men  of  an  alien  race  and  creed,"  exclaimed 
Gladwin  in  admiration. 

"  He  who  has  lived  long  in  the  wilderness  forgets 
the  boundaries  of  countries,  the  narrowness  of  preju- 
dice," rejoined  the  missionary,  with  gentleness.  "  He 
loves  his  native  land  indeed  as  ardently  as  ever. 
Like  the  two  lights  upon  the  altar  at  the  holy  Mass, 
his  patriotism  and  his  religion  burn  brightly  upon  the 
altar  of  his  soul.  But  he  sees  the  whole  earth  as 
God's  world ;  to  him  all  men  are  brothers ;  and  his 
mission  is  to  all  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact. 
One  other  aim  I  had  in  coming  — " 

"  Ah,"  ejaculated  Gladwin,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"  Yes,"  pursued  Father  Janois,  "  I  cannot  deny 
that  I  came  to  try  to  lead  back  to  Michilimackinac 
those  of  my  flock  who  have  joined  in  this  war;  to 
confront  Pontiac,  and  warn  him  that  the  punishment 
of  Heaven  will  follow  him  if  the  atrocities  perpe- 
trated by  his  authority  do  not  cease.  Monsieur,  the 
Indians  have  suffered  much  through  the  lawless- 
ness of  your  traders,  the  degrading  influence  of 
your  fire-water,  and  for  this  they  have  my  sym- 
pathy. But  in  all  ages  the  savage  has  been  forced 
to  give  way  to  civilized  man.  And  I  believe  the 
only  hope  of  my  people  is  '  to  make  friends  of  the 
mammon  of  iniquity,'  meaning  the  English,"  he 


THE    OTTAWA'S    HOUR  247 

added,  with  a  twinkle  of  his  kindly  eyes  and  a  hu- 
morous smile. 

Gladwin  had  absently  remained  seated,  while  his 
visitor  stood.  Recollecting  himself,  he  now  sprang 
to  his  feet. 

"  God  bless  you,  sir,  for  your  eagerness  to  help 
our  poor  soldiers  as  well  as  those  in  the  north/'  he 
said  sincerely. 

"  I  have  already  spoken  to  Pontiac,  and  another 
conference  is  appointed  for  this  afternoon,"  proceeded 
the  Jesuit;  "  but  I  am  not  over-sanguine  as  to  the 
result.  This  evening  I  set  out  upon  my  return 
voyage ;  therefore,  I  pray  you,  send  to  me  at  dusk 
by  some  trusted  Frenchman  the  letters  you  wish 
me  to  take." 

"  You  go  this  evening?  But  you  are  not  yet  rested 
from  your  journey,"  protested  the  officer. 

Father  Janois  replied  with  a  Gallic  shrug. 

"  That  matters  not,"  he  laughed.  "  I  must  go  back  at 
once.  I  exacted  from  the  Indians  a  promise  that  they 
would  not  commit  any  hostilities  during  my  absence. 
I  must  go  to  hold  in  check  the  tribes  of  the  north." 

Gladwin  regarded  him  curiously.  Yes,  this  man  in 
the  worn  black  gown,  a  man  aged  before  his  time,  pos- 
sessed the  only  power  that  could  in  the  least  degree 
control  the  savages ;  a  power  won  by  his  devoted  and 
self-sacrificing  life  in  the  forest. 

"  Therefore  I  will  bid  you  '  au  revoir,'  monsieur  le 
commandant,  although  to  say  *  adieu  '  were  no  omi- 
nous leavetaking,"  continued  the  priest.  "  Let  it  be 
both '  au  revoir '  and  '  adieu.'  Do  not  despair.  Your 
little  garrison  still  rests  in  God's  keeping." 

"  Farewell,  sir,"  answered  the  major,  with  Anglo- 
Saxon  immobility,  though  his  heart  beat  warmly  in 
response  to  the  words  of  the  missionary. 


CHAPTER  NINETEENTH 

ANGELIQUE'S   SCHEMING 

DESPITE  Sterling's  anxiety  to  effect  the  release 
of  Mr.  Campbell,  and  the  assistance  which  his 
sweetheart,  the  courageous  Angelique  Cuillerier,  had 
promised  to  lend  in  his  daring  project,  a  month  rolled 
by,  and  yet  the  gallant  officer  was  still  a  prisoner. 

It  had  been  impossible  for  the  merchant  and  his 
fair  auxiliary  to  put  their  scheme  into  execution. 
Major  Gladwin  also  had  replied  to  the  haughty  de- 
mands of  Pontiac,  that  he  would  make  no  terms  with 
the  Indians  until  his  captain  and  lieutenant  were  sent 
back  to  the  fort  in  safety.  But  to  this  the  fierce  Ot- 
tawa returned  the  barbaric  message  that  the  kettles 
of  his  camp  were  heating  to  boil  the  inmates  of  the 
stockade,  and  if  the  hostages  were  freed  they  would 
share  the  fate  in  store  for  the  garrison.  Clever, 
treacherous,  and  revengeful,  the  Indian  leader  never- 
theless showed  to  the  French  at  times  that  he  could 
be  generous,  noble,  and  even  courteous.  Thus  it 
happened  one  morning  that  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier 
found  herself  indebted  to  the  Great  Chief  for  a  visit 
from  her  friend  Marianne  de  St.  Ours. 

"  A  la  bonne  heure,  mon  amie !  Did  the  manitou 
of  the  winds,  as  the  squaws  say,  did  Okeewaisee  waft 
you  here  through  the  air?"  exclaimed  Angelique,  as 
Marianne  suddenly  appeared  before  her  in  the  outer 
kitchen  of  the  Cuillerier  house,  where  with  la  bonne 
mere  and  Tante  Josette  she  was  engaged  in  preparing 


ANGELIQUE'S   SCHEMING  249 

the  "pain  benit"  (bread  to  be  blessed)  to  be  dis- 
tributed during  the  grand  Mass  of  Corpus  Christi 
Day. 

Hitherto,  each  family  of  the  parish  of  Ste.  Anne 
had,  in  turn,  furnished  this  offering  to  the  church 
upon  the  great  festivals.  Now,  because  of  the  siege, 
the  people  of  the  c6te  must  needs  worship  at  the 
small  chapel,  near  the  house  of  Louis  Campeau ;  yet 
Dame  Cuillerier  had  resolved  that  the  little  congre- 
gation should  miss  none  of  the  observances  of  the 
feast. 

The  scene  that  presented  itself  to  the  eyes  of 
Mademoiselle  de  St.  Ours  was  one  which  would  have 
delighted  the  artistic  sense  of  a  poet  or  a  painter 
accustomed  to  look  for  the  picturesque  amid  the 
commonplace. 

Two  Pani  women  were  kneading  the  dough  in 
a  large  wooden  trough.  Angelique,  with  sleeves 
pinned  up,  displaying  her  dimpled  arms,  was  plaiting 
strips  of  the  dough  into  the  wreath  or  "  couronne  " 
that  was  to  adorn  the  top  loaf  of  the  pinnacle  of 
bread,  to  be  sent  on  a  great  salver  to  the  chapel. 
This  "  couronne  "  must  be  most  carefully  fashioned, 
for  after  the  Mass  it  would  be  sent  to  Madame  St. 
Aubin,  as  a  token  that  she  had  been  chosen  to  pre- 
pare the  "  pain  benit "  for  the  next  festival. 

At  a  table  near  by  Tante  Josette  was  cutting  the 
accessory  "  cousins,"  a  kind  of  cake,  into  palm  shapes, 
and  with  a  feather  brushing  the  top  of  each  with  egg 
and  sugar,  while,  as  they  were  ready,  Dame  Cuillerier 
placed  them  in  the  wide  oven  at  the  side  of  the  fire- 
place. 

The  blazing  pine  knots  in  the  open  chimney  shed 
a  pleasant  light  upon  the  faces  of  the  women,  caught 
a  bright  reflection  from  the  burnished  brass  and  cop- 


250     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

per  cooking  utensils  upon  the  dresser,  and  played  in 
fitful  gleams  upon  the  rough  puncheon  floor. 

To  Marianne,  the  motherless  demoiselle  who  had 
been  reared  at  the  Ursuline  Convent  at  Quebec,  the 
simple  scene  appeared  charmingly  picturesque  and 
homelike,  as  she  stood  smiling  upon  it. 

In  another  moment  Angelique  crossed  the  room 
and,  taking  the  delicate  face  of  the  young  guest  be- 
tween her  own  pretty  hands,  kissed  the  girl  with  warm 
affection. 

"  How  dared  you  come  over  the  prairie,  and  how 
did  you  obtain  permission  to  leave  the  stockade?  "  she 
asked  in  a  breath,  at  the  same  time  flecking  away  a 
little  patch  of  flour  that  she  had  left  on  her  friend's 
satin  cheek. 

"  Your  '  bon  ami,'  Monsieur  Sterling,  not  only 
gave  me  a  pass  to  go  out,  but  deputed  the  inter- 
preter Monsieur  Larron  to  conduct  me,"  explained 
Marianne. 

"  Larron  !  I  do  not  like  his  lean  sombre  visage  and 
cold  gray  eyes,"  interrupted  Angelique.  "  He  is  too 
solemn  for  a  Frenchman." 

"  But  surely  our  French-Canadians  are  not  always 
laughing,  singing,  or  dancing,"  protested  her  cousin. 

"  True ;  yet  the  gravity  of  this  Larron  is  not  natu- 
ral ;  he  wears  it  as  a  mask." 

"  No  doubt  Monsieur  Larron  has  fallen  into  dis- 
favor with  the  French  because  he  is  so  much  es- 
teemed by  the  English  at  the  fort.  I  hope  he  will 
suffer  no  harm  thereby,"  said  Marianne. 

Then  affecting  to  take  no  note  of  Angelique's  toss 
of  the  head  and  muttered  remark  that  Larron  would 
probably  save  his  scalp,  she  continued,  — 

"  But  besides  the  company  of  this  cavalier  in  com- 
ing hither,  I  had  a  guard  of  Indians  from  the  camp 


ANGELIQUE'S   SCHEMING  251 

of  Pontiac,  and  the  two  Pani  youths  that  Madame 
des  Ruisseaux  sent  with  me." 

"  You  had  an  escort  from  Pontiac?" 

"  From  the  Ottawa  chief?  "  ejaculated  Xante  Josette 
and  la  bonne  mere  simultaneously. 

"  Yes,  madame  and  ma  tante." 

Marianne's  pale  beauty  was  enhanced  by  a  rosy 
flush  as  she  proceeded, — 

"  You  will  remember  that  some  time  since  I  sent 
to  the  British  settlement  of  New  York  for  a  box  of 
goods.  It  was  foolish  of  me,  but  I  had  a  fancy  to 
secure  some  apparel  from  the  grand  town  of  London 
over  the  seas.  I  heard  that  the  goods  were  shipped 
by  the  convoy  which  the  savages  captured.  Some 
friend  of  mine  mentioned  the  matter  to  Pontiac,  and 
the  Great  Ottawa  sent  me  word  that  I  might  have 
them  and  welcome ;  so  I  am  come  to  see  if  they  may 
be  among  the  stores  brought  to  the  house  of  Baptiste 
Meloche." 

"Well,  well,"  cried  Dame  Cuillerier.  "You  need 
not  grow  so  rose-red,  cherie !  We  all  know  the  chest 
contains  the  bridal  gown  that  you  wished  to  have  of 
London  fashioning,  to  please  your  English  bride- 
groom. 'T  would  be  a  pity  were  it  gone  astray, 
so  near  its  destination  too.  We  will  put  up  a  petition 
to  le  bon  St.  Antoine,  the  finder  of  things  lost,  that 
you  may  recover  it.  But,  rest  awhile;  you  must  be 
tired  after  your  walk." 

"  I  thank  you,"  cried  Marianne,  blushing  still  more. 
"I  had  best  not  stay  longer;  the  interpreter  and 
the  Indians  await  me  at  the  gate." 

Angelique  sauntered  down  the  garden  path  with 
her  visitor,  who,  as  they  went,  slipped  into  her  hand 
a  pink-tinted  billet. 

"  It  is  from  your  '  bon  ami,'  your  sweetheart,"  she 


252     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

whispered,  with  sly  merriment  and  a  droll  stumbling 
over  the  Saxon  word.  "  Ah,  it  was  not  difficult  for 
me  to  get  the  pass  when  I  announced  that,  after 
going  my  errand,  I  wished  to  visit  my  Aunt 
Cuillerier." 

"  Phouff!  what  notion  is  this?  No  one  among  the 
English  is  my  '  bon  ami,' "  protested  the  other  de- 
moiselle ;  but  she  thrust  the  billet  into  the  bosom  of 
her  frock  with  all  haste,  and  her  eyes  brightened  as 
Marianne  promised  to  stop  at  the  house  again  on  re- 
turning from  the  camp  of  Pontiac. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour,  Mademoiselle  de  St.  Ours 
came  back  in  high  feather.  The  chest  was  found  ; 
Pontiac  had  delivered  it  over  to  her  with  the  courtesy 
of  a  prince,  and  the  Panis  would  carry  it  to  the  town. 
Her  escort  were  outside,  but  she  had  run  in  to  tell  the 
good  news  to  "  la  bonne  mere,"  and  Tante  Josette,  and 
"  cette  chere  Angelique." 

"  Ah,  Marianne,  you  happy  girl !  "  exclaimed 
Angelique,  as  she  drew  her  cousin  from  the  kitchen, 
where  the  cookery  was  still  in  progress,  into  the  cool- 
ness and  quiet  of  the  hearthroom.  "  This  Captain 
Dalzell  whom  you  met  in  Montreal  is  so  brave  and 
handsome,  they  say,  and  he  loves  you  so  devotedly 
that  I  can  forgive  him  even  for  being  English." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  am  happy,"  acknowledged  Marianne. 
"  Or  at  least  I  shall  be  when  he  comes  to  the  strait. 
Months  ago  he  wrote  me,  saying  he  had  asked  to  be 
sent  here ;  but  that  was  before  this  dreadful  Indian 
trouble.  And  now,  fondly  as  I  long  to  see  him,  I 
sometimes  wish  he  had  not  applied  for  this  favor. 
Alas,  the  braver  the  soldier  lover,  the  more  anxiety 
has  his  betrothed." 

"  Tush,  say  rather  the  more  cause  you  have  for 
pride,"  declared  her  sympathetic  confidante.  "  Your 


ANGELIQUE'S   SCHEMING  253 

hero  will  come  with  a  large  force  of  troops,  and  put 
an  end  to  the  war." 

"The  soldiers  of  the  King  of  France  may  come, 
and  then  the  strife  will  be  the  fiercer,"  sighed  Mari- 
anne timorously.  "  Ah,  I  fear  I  am  a  very  wicked 
girl  to  have  given  my  love  to  an  alien." 

"Bah,"  broke  out  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier,  "cheer 
up,  ma  petite;  Father  Potier  says  marriages  are 
made  in  Heaven !  Now  if  Heaven  designs  to  favor 
this  Englishman  with  so  sweet  a  wife  as  you  will 
make,  why  should  you  thwart  the  designs  of  Provi- 
dence? As  for  the  soldiers  of  the  fleur-de-lis,  I  fear 
they  will  never  more  be  seen  at  Le  Detroit.  The 
neighbors  who  come  to  chat  with  my  father  —  St. 
Aubin  and  others  —  have  taken  to  muttering  of  late. 
They  say  King  Louis  cares  not  a  whit  for  his  loyal 
subjects  of  New  France;  why  then  should  these  sub- 
jects remain  the  chattels  of  his  Majesty?  To  be 
governed  by  the  English  would  be  as  good  as  to  be 
ruled  by  Pontiac. 

"  Last  Sunday,  la  chere  tante  and  I  went  to 
Mass  and  confession  at  the  Huron  Mission.  You 
know  how  the  rich  habitants  are  wont  to  have  their 
easy-chairs  rigged  out  with  side  bars,  and,  seated 
thus  in  state,  are  carried  to  church  by  their  Pani 
slaves  ?  Eh  bien,  as  after  the  service  we  came  out 
under  the  trees  of  Le  Pere  Richardie,  we  saw  the 
Great  Ottawa  take  his  place  in  one  of  these  chairs. 
Borne  on  the  shoulders  of  his  braves,  he  visited  the 
farms  of  the  southern  shore  to  see  for  himself  the 
amount  of  grain  in  the  possession  of  the  farmers,  so 
said  Jacques  Baby.  Before  he  set  out,  however,  he 
bought  corn  and  cattle  of  some  Canadians  at  the 
church  door,  and  we  saw  him  give  in  exchange  his 
note  of  indebtedness,  as  the  commandant  at  the  fort 


254     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

is  wont  to  do.  Only,  the  notes  of  Pontiac  were  bits 
of  birch  bark  whereon  he  scratched  the  figure  of  a 
coon,  the  totem  he  has  chosen.  I  told  my  father  of 
it  all,  and  he  says  Pontiac  ever  redeems  his  pledges 
in  honorable  manner.  But  truly,  if  your  lover,  Major 
Dalzell,  comes,  —  well,  I  long  to  dance  at  your  wed- 
ding, cherie  ;  and  here  is  the  answer  to  the  billet  you 
brought  me." 

With  some  confusion,  she  thrust  a  folded  scrap  of 
paper  into  Marianne's  hand. 

"  Ah,  for  your  '  bon  ami,'  "  persisted  the  other  de- 
moiselle roguishly. 

Angelique  let  the  jest  pass. 

"It  is  better  Marianne  should  think  I  have  accepted 
him  as  my  '  bon  ami '  than  that  she  should  know 
the  billet  contains  matter  of  importance,"  she  said 
to  herself.  "  But  of  course  it  is  not  so,  and  —  and 
—  though  he  kissed  me  —  I  could  not  help  it.  Last 
Sunday  when  I  asked  advice  of  Father  Potier,  he 
told  me  if  I  had  given  my  troth  to  this  cavalier  of 
whom  I  spoke,  the  kiss  was  permissible  for  that 
occasion.  Shall  I  consider  that  I  gave  my  troth,  for 
the  sake  of  thinking  it  permissible  ?  The  Scotch- 
man said  by  it  he  plighted  his  troth  to  me.  But  how 
can  he  be  betrothed  to  me  if  I  am  not  betrothed  to 
him?  " 

Thus  mused  the  perplexed  demoiselle  after  Mari- 
anne had  gone  back  to  the  town.  In  the  letter 
Angelique  had  begged  of  Sterling,  by  the  love  he 
had  sworn  to  her,  to  come  no  more  to  the  c6te.  She 
repeated  that  the  voice  of  the  whip-poor-will  was 
mournful,  and  she  would  shut  her  ears  to  it,  adding 
in  enigmatic  phrase,  of  which  he  alone  possessed  the 
key,  that  she  could  best  effect  the  escape  of  the  cap- 
tain by  her  own  devices.  If  the  merchant  persisted 


ANGELIQUE'S   SCHEMING  255 

in  coming,  suspicion  might  fall  upon  her  as  one  who 
favored  the  English.  This  last  argument  would,  she 
knew,  prove  conclusive.  Yet,  after  the  message  was 
despatched,  the  girl  wept,  and  was  beset  by  many 
nervous  fears  lest,  amid  the  stress  and  danger  of  the 
times,  she  might  never  see  her  likely  young  gallant 
again. 

The  cloud  of  discouragement  that  hung  over  the 
stockade  was  becoming  less  dense,  however.  One 
night  an  English  prisoner  escaped  from  the  Ottawa 
camp,  bringing  a  letter  found  in  the  clothes  of  a  scout 
killed  by  the  Hurons.  The  missive,  written  by  an 
officer  at  Niagara  to  the  commandant  at  Fort  Miami, 
conveyed  the  intelligence  of  the  signing  of  the  treaty 
of  Paris ;  and  having  perused  it,  Major  Gladwin 
ordered  James  Sterling  to  assemble  the  French  of 
the  town  at  the  door  of  the  church  of  Ste.  Anne,  and 
read  to  them  the  news  that  New  France  had  been 
formally  ceded  to  the  English.  When  this  had  been 
done,  a  concert  was  given  by  the  little  band  of  the 
fort 

One  sultry  afternoon  about  this  time,  Angelique 
Cuillerier  bent  over  the  berry  patch  in  her  garden, 
picking  the  choicest  of  the  red,  ripe  fruit  into  a  china 
bowl,  of  a  thickness  calculated  to  withstand  the  rough 
usage  of  years. 

"  Well  may  the  savages  call  these  weeks  of  June 
'  the  Moon  of  Strawberries,'  "  she  reflected.  "  Never 
have  our  berries  been  more  luscious,  and  every  time 
Pontiac  has  entered  the  house  and  demanded  a  meal, 
I  have  feared  he  would  send  his  braves  to  despoil 
the  patch.  How  good  my  mother  is  when  the 
Ottawa  comes !  She  does  not  call  me  when  I  run 
away  and  hide.  Heigh-ho,  she  little  dreams,  though, 
what  cause  I  have  to  fear  him." 


256     THE    HEROINE    OF    THE    STRAIT 

Her  task  completed,  the  girl  laid  upon  the  fruit 
she  had  gathered  a  cluster  of  the  dark  green  foliage 
of  the  garden  pear  tree,  the  "  pommier  doux " 
whereof  she  was  wont  to  sing,  and,  returning,  set  the 
bowl  on  the  table  in  the  hearthroom.  Then  mount- 
ing to  her  corner  under  the  eaves,  she  bathed  her 
face,  smoothed  her  disordered  curls,  exchanged  her 
blue  cotton  frock  for  one  of  white  linen,  and,  donning 
a  white  sun-bonnet,  issued  from  the  house,  carrying 
the  china  bowl  with  great  care. 

From  the  window  of  the  loft,  Tante  Josette  looked 
sleepily  after  her. 

"  La  cherie  is  going  to  pay  a  visit  to  Madame  Me- 
loche,"  she  soliloquized.  "  The  child  finds  it  dull 
now  that  she  cannot  go  to  the  town.  Captain  Camp- 
bell does  not  take  a  sieste,  and  although  he  still 
grieves  for  la  jolie  Mathurine,  he  obtains  a  won- 
drous consolation  from  the  bright  eyes  and  sweet 
sympathy  of  la  chere  Angelique.  Eh  bien,  if  she 
persists  in  going  out  during  the  heat  of  the  sun, 
she  will  get  a  row  of  freckles  across  her  nose ;  but  she 
has  a  kind  heart,  and  the  afternoon  is  long  for  the 
pleasant  gentleman.  Madame  Meloche  has  been 
appointed  by  her  husband  the  captain's  gaoler,  but 
she  says  when  Angelique  is  there  the  officer  is  sure 
to  go  no  further  away  than  the  garden." 

It  was  not  far  to  the  house  of  Baptiste  Meloche  — 
a  short  walk  on  the  river  road  where  it  crossed  the 
prairie  past  the  home  of  his  cousin,  Francois,  and 
then  over  the  bridge  of  Parant's  Creek. 

Behind  the  Meloche  palisade,  under  a  pear  tree 
which  might  have  been  the  twin  of  the  one  beside  the 
door  of  the  Cuillerier  homestead,  sat  the  captain  in  a 
rude  chair  before  a  rustic  table,  writing  upon  strips 
of  birch  bark  with  a  swan's-quill  pen,  which  he  dipped 


ANG^LIQUE'S   SCHEMING  257 

from  time  to  time  in  an  inkhorn,  made  likewise  of  the 
bark,  and  filled  with  the  sooty  liquid  he  had  used  in 
inditing  his  note  to  Sterling. 

"  Ah,  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier,"  he  exclaimed, 
rising  as  he  perceived  the  demoiselle,  "  Madame 
Meloche  is,  I  believe,  within;  shall  I  summon  a  Pani 
to  announce  you,  or  will  you  seek  her  in  her  own 
apartments?" 

Often  as  Angelique  came  here,  this  little  comedy 
was  invariably  gone  through  with  between  herself  and 
the  good  captain.  His  gallantry  would  not  permit 
him  to  presume  that  she  came  to  see  him,  while  she 
shrank  from  appearing  to  remind  him  that  he  was  a 
prisoner.  And  "  to  visit  and  cheer  those  in  captiv- 
ity "  was  one  of  the  "  seven  corporal  works  of  mercy," 
so  taught  the  zealous  Father  Potier. 

"  Oh,  it  is  too  warm  to  go  indoors ;  I  will  stay 
out  here  where  there  is  a  breeze  from  the  river," 
she  replied,  casting  her  sun-bonnet  upon  the  table. 
"  No  doubt  Madame  Meloche  is  dozing,  and  I  shall 
have  to  await  her  awakening.  Here,  Monsieur  Camp- 
bell, I  have  brought  you  some  strawberries.  You 
should  have  had  cream  with  them  were  it  not  that 
a  certain  warrior  has  left  us  only  one  cow,  and  we 
cannot  save  milk  for  cream.  As  for  sugar,  we  have 
none  but  such  as  is  from  the  maple  trees,  which  you 
do  not  like.  The  berries  are,  however,  quite  sweet, 
and  I  plucked  them  myself." 

"  Sweet  they  must  be,  then,"  said  the  captain,  with 
a  smile  that  thanked  her  for  the  trouble  she  had 
taken  to  please  him.  "  Now  will  you  not  join  me  in 
the  feast?  " 

"Not  I,"  she  answered;  "but  I  am  going  to  sit 
here  and  watch  you  until  you  have  eaten  them  all." 

Pleased  as  a  boy  at  her  kind  thought  of  him,  the 
17 


258     THE    HEROINE    OF    THE    STRAIT 

captain  laughed,  and  raising  one  of  the  ripe  berries 
by  its  stem,  for  Angelique  had  plucked  them  as 
though  they  were  so  many  scarlet  flowers,  he  threw 
back  his  head  and  let  the  luscious  fruit  drop  into 
his  mouth.  Another  and  another  berry  followed 
the  first ;  then  saying  gaily,  "  My  faith,  it  will  not  do 
to  devour  them  all;  we  must  keep  a  few  for  Lieuten- 
ant McDougal,"  he  set  the  bowl  upon  the  opposite 
side  of  the  table,  as  though  pushing  away  temptation. 

Angelique  frowned,  but  quickly  smiled  again. 
Yes,  the  lieutenant  was  welcome  to  a  share.  She 
had  seated  herself  upon  a  bench  that  rested  against 
the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and,  having  picked  up  her  bon- 
net once  more,  was  fanning  herself  with  it. 

"  Mademoiselle,  you  remind  me  of  a  beautiful 
white  butterfly  that  I  sometimes  see  flitting  about  in 
this  garden,"  averred  the  captain,  gazing  at  her  with 
admiring  eyes. 

Oddly  enough,  the  girl  was  in  no  mood  for  compli- 
ments and  scarce  seemed  to  hear  him.  A  pause, 
which  was  not  awkward,  intervened  ;  for  there  existed 
between  the  middle-aged  officer  and  the  young 
French  demoiselle  as  near  an  approach  to  a  Platonic 
friendship  as  can  perhaps  be  quoted. 

Now  Angelique  sat  facing  the  house  and  covertly 
observing  its  windows,  even  to  the  dormers  in  the 
roof,  though  to  any  one  scrutinizing  her  from  the 
interior  she  might  have  presented  a  charming  picture 
of  youthful  indolence  as  she  leaned  back  noncha- 
lantly, and  patted  the  grass  with  her  moccasined  foot 
in  very  idleness. 

Meantime  the  captain,  lounging  in  his  chair,  fell  to 
surveying  the  river,  as  it  lay  glittering  in  the  sunlight 
like  a  mirror  of  burnished  silver,  just  beyond  the 
road  and  the  bluff  at  the  end  of  the  garden. 


ANGELIQUE'S    SCHEMING  259 

As  the  silence  continued,  he  shifted  his  position  so 
that  he  could  look  down  the  strait  in  the  direction 
of  the  stockade.  Above  the  bastions  of  the  fort  the 
standard  of  St.  George  was  proudly  flying,  and,  as 
his  eyes  rested  upon  the  crimson  banner,  Mademoi- 
selle Cuillerier,  who  had  begun  to  study  him  narrowly, 
saw  that  they  kindled  with  the  enthusiasm  of  a  sol- 
dier who  salutes  his  colors  ;  then  presently  his  gaze 
grew  absent  and  sad.  There  being  nothing  to  call 
up  his  ready  smile  or  to  compel  a  cheery  speech, 
she  noted  how  much  graver  and  more  lined  was  his 
bronzed  visage  than  it  had  been  a  few  weeks  before ; 
and  although,  lacking  his  accustomed  exercise,  he 
had  increased  in  weight,  he  appeared  to  have  lost 
much  of  his  former  activity  and  vigor. 

Angelique  sighed  ;  clearly  the  captain  would  seem 
like  an  elderly  man  if  he  remained  much  longer  in 
captivity. 

Anon,  she  glanced  up  among  the  branches  above 
her  head,  as  if  attracted  by  the  chirping  of  the  birds 
in  their  leafy  bowers;  a  natural  action,  yet  it  was 
the  same  to  which  the  girl  Nedawniss  had  resorted  in 
the  mission  orchard  before  she  revealed  the  dark 
workings  of  her  heart  to  Father  Potier. 

But  no  dusky  face  peered  down  through  the  sun- 
touched  foliage,  no  Indian  form  clung  close  to  the 
gray  branches.  Having  assured  herself  that  no  one 
was  within  earshot,  the  demoiselle  said  softly,  retain- 
ing her  careless  pose,  — 

"  Monsieur  Campbell,  did  you  ever  decline  to  aid 
a  lady  in  distress?" 

The  captain  came  back  from  his  reverie  with  a 
start. 

"  Who,  I?  Bless  my  soul,  no  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with 
warmth.  "During  my  life  I  have  doubtless  been 


a6o     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

derelict  in  many  things,  but  unchivalrous  to  a  woman 
—  never !  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  if  I  can  render  a  service  to  any 
friend  of  yours,  I  swear  to  do  so.  Yet,  alas !  I  for- 
got, I  am  a  prisoner;  "  and  he  struck  the  arm  of  the 
chair  with  his  clenched  hand. 

"  Oh,  monsieur  le  capitaine,  you  can  render  the 
greatest  service,"  stammered  the  girl,  lowering  her 
eyes  demurely.  "  But,  lean  back  in  your  chair,  fill 
your  pipe,  and  smoke  it  while  I  tell  you." 

The  captain  laughed,  resumed  his  easy  posture,  and 
with  a  protest  took  the  pipe  from  his  pouch. 

Angelique  plucked  a  white  clover  blossom  from  the 
grass  and  began  to  pick  it  to  pieces. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  continued,  in  a  tense  undertone, 
"  I  am  the  lady  in  distress." 

He  raised  his  eyebrows  inquiringly,  and  his  coun- 
tenance grew  serious. 

"  Yes,  I  gave  a  promise,  and  without  your  aid  I 
cannot  keep  it.  I  agreed  to  set  you  free ;  the  means 
are  prepared ;  you  must  avail  yourself  of  them  to- 
night." 

The  captain  was  startled  at  her  temerity,  but  by  no 
abrupt  gesture  did  he  betray  his  surprise.  A  prisoner 
learns  to  guard  his  every  look. 

"  Ah,  mademoiselle,  how  relentlessly  you  have  en- 
snared me,"  he  cried,  endeavoring  to  pass  the  matter 
off  as  a  jest. 

"  You  will  not  be  foresworn  ?"  protested  the  girl, 
aghast.  "  For  weeks  I  have  awaited  this  opportunity. 
Pontiac's  camp  was  too  near.  Now  he  has  removed 
his  villages  farther  up  the  river,  and  only  a  few  war- 
riors have  their  lodges  here.  Listen :  after  dusk  I  will 
leave  my  canoe  moored  at  my  father's  wharf.  In  the 
dead  of  night,  you  and  Lieutenant  McDougal  must 


ANGELIQUE'S   SCHEMING  261 

manage  to  escape  from  this  house  and  make  your 
way  to  the  wharf.  You  will  find  the  paddle  among 
the  bushes.  Be  swift,  leap  into  the  canoe,  push  out 
from  the  shore,  and  paddle  in  all  haste  to  the  fort.  By 
good  fortune  the  moon  does  not  rise  until  late ;  the 
stars  will  give  you  sufficient  light,  yet  will  not  afford 
enough  to  favor  your  detection." 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  interposed  the  captain, 
much  moved,  "  I  am  most  grateful  for  your  interest 
in  my  behalf.  Your  scheme  shows  a  woman's  clever- 
ness, and  if  Mr.  McDougal  chooses  to  adopt  it,  I  wish 
him  all  success.  For  myself,"  he  added,  in  a  lighter 
tone,  "  by  my  faith,  I  am  overweighted  with  flesh  to 
make  a  good  runner,  and  so  short-sighted  that  in  the 
night  I  am  as  blind  as  is  a  bat  at  noonday.  Were  I  to 
accompany  McDougal  I  should  only  hinder  him  from 
regaining  his  liberty.  Moreover,  I  have  given  my 
word  of  honor  to  Pontiac  that  I  will  not  try  to  escape. 
I  cannot  break  my  parole." 

In  Mr.  Campbell's  reply  Angelique  recognized  the 
same  proud  spirit  of  "  noblesse  oblige  "  which  distin- 
guished her  uncle  Picote  de  Bellestre,  and  the  chev- 
aliers of  the  old  regime.  Ardently  admiring  this 
punctilious  sense  of  honor,  she  sighed  nevertheless. 

"  Pontiac  captured  you  by  a  trick.  He  had  no 
right  to  exact  the  promise,  monsieur  le  capitaine," 
she  said  presently. 

"  Perhaps  not,  yet  when  peace  comes  the  Ottawa 
will  remember  that  I  kept  my  word  to  him.  Hav- 
ing thus  had  my  small  part  in  promoting  amicable 
relations  between  the  aborigines  and  our  people,  I  shall 
have  performed  a  soldier's  duty  to  his  country." 

Tears  of  disappointment  glistened  in  the  pretty 
eyes  of  Angelique.  Captain  Campbell  had  risen  as  he 
spoke,  and  while  she  glanced  up  at  him,  she  noted 


262     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

that  he  stood  in  the  centre  of  a  long,  black  shadow. 
It  was  only  the  shadow  of  the  Meloche  house,  but  to 
her  imagination  the  circumstance  seemed  ominous. 

Now  he  strode  to  her  side  and  would  have  raised 
her  hands  to  his  lips ;  but,  hiding  them  beneath  her 
apron,  she  faltered,  — 

"  I  beseech  you,  monsieur,  do  not  betray  that  we 
speak  of  anything  more  important  than  the  time  of 
day.  There  may  be  an  Indian  eye  behind  every  crack 
and  cranny  of  yonder  house.  The  canoe  will  be  at 
the  wharf  to-night ;  take  it,  and  secure  your  freedom. 
Hark !  " 

As  she  concluded,  her  quick  ear  detected  a  step  in 
the  passage  within.  The  next  moment  a  tall,  lank 
figure  appeared  in  the  doorway,  and,  after  a  swift 
glance,  she  smiled  a  greeting,  perceiving  the  new- 
comer to  be  Mr.  McDougal,  who  showed  some  cha- 
grin at  his  tardy  arrival,  when  he  beheld  the  pretty 
vision  in  white,  seated  under  the  old  pear  tree. 

"  Ha,  ha,  sir  lieutenant,  you  have  missed  the  op- 
portunity of  your  life  by  remaining  indoors  this  after- 
noon, pretending  to  read  the  volume  of  Bossuet  that 
Father  Potier  was  so  kind  as  to  lend  us,  whereas  you 
were  dozing  over  the  book,  I  trow,"  called  the  captain 
rallyingly,  in  French.  "  Here  have  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  discussing  the  weather  and  the  crops  with  la  belle 
du  Detroit." 

"  Verily,  my  captain,  you  have  had  a  panacea 
against  the  '  dolce  far  niente  '  which,  in  these  parts, 
creeps  upon  one  unawares,"  rejoined  the  young  offi- 
cer, with  a  bow  to  the  demoiselle. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  profited  by  the  time  of  the 
'  sieste,'  monsieur,"  began  Angelique,  in  a  bantering 
tone.  Then  lowering  her  voice  she  added,  "  Because 
when  next  this  household  goes  to  rest,  you  must  act." 


ANGELIQUE'S   SCHEMING  263 

McDougal's  keen  eyes  searched  her  face,  but  he 
gave  no  other  evidence  that  the  communication  was 
unexpected. 

Assuming  a  coquettish  manner  in  strange  contrast 
to  her  words,  she  repeated  to  the  younger  officer  the 
plan  she  had  unfolded  to  the  captain,  and  besought 
him  to  strive  to  overcome  the  latter's  unwillingness 
to  seize  upon  this  opportunity  of  escape. 

"  That  I  will,"  agreed  McDougal,  who  considered 
the  captain's  scruples  most  quixotic.  "  To-morrow, 
mademoiselle,  I  trust  we  shall  be  in  the  fort ;  and 
ever  after,  during  all  the  to-morrows  that  come  to  us, 
we  shall  toast  the  noble  French  demoiselle  who  lent 
us  her  aid." 

"  Au  revoir,  then,  my  friends,  au  revoir,"  cried 
Angelique,  in  high  spirits.  Darting  a  glance  of  en- 
treaty at  the  captain,  and  bestowing  a  kindly  one 
upon  the  lieutenant,  she  ran  lightly  away  to  the 
house,  to  find  Madame  Meloche  looking  out  at  the 
two  officers  through  a  slit  in  the  deerskin  curtain  of 
her  apartment. 

The  girl  breathed  nervously,  and  for  a  second  a 
tremor  possessed  her.  But  reflecting  that  her  con- 
versation with  the  gentlemen  had  been  carried  on  in 
so  subdued  a  tone  that  it  could  not  possibly  have 
reached  other  ears,  she  said  lightly,  — 

"  Vraiment,  mon  amie,  I  am  glad  to  find  you 
aroused.  Why  did  you  not  come  into  the  garden? 
I  stopped  awhile  to  speak  to  your  prisoners.  Ma  foi ! 
they  do  not  laugh  and  sing  as  a  Frenchman  would 
under  the  same  circumstances,  if  only  to  spite  his 
gaolor." 

"  Chut,  chut !  what  does  a  lively  demoiselle  know 
of  such  grave  matters?  "  chided  the  young  dame,  with 
the  superior  condescension  of  a  woman  who  has  a 


264     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

husband  and  a  child,  and  a  home  of  her  own.  "The 
poor  gentlemen  endure  their  captivity  with  fine  forti- 
tude, to  my  thinking." 

"  Eh  bien,  I  did  not  come  to  discuss  the  English," 
returned  the  girl,  suppressing  a  yawn.  "  Ah,  there  is 
your  little  daughter  awake  in  the  cradle.  Truly,  she 
grows  prettier  each  day." 

Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  spent  half  an  hour  in  chat- 
ting with  Dame  Meloche  and  playing  with  the  two- 
year-old  baby.  Then  taking  her  china  bowl,  and 
calling  back  to  the  officers  another  and  more  careless 
"  au  revoir,"  she  set  out  for  home. 


CHAPTER  TWENTIETH 

THE   PRICE   OF  VENGEANCE 

HAD  Tante  Josette  been  inclined  to  wakefulness, 
she  might  have  discovered  that  her  niece  Ange- 
lique  slept  little  on  the  night  that  succeeded  her  visit 
to  Darne  Meloche,  but  spent  the  long  hours  kneeling 
at  the  window  in  the  dormer.  "  Cette  chere  tante  " 
doubly  welcomed  a  quiet  night  now,  however,  and 
devoted  it  to  slumber  with  conscientious  exactness,  so 
often  of  late  had  the  repose  of  the  c6te  been  disturbed 
by  wild  war  chants  and  savage  cries. 

In  the  morning  the  girl  saw  with  delight  that  her 
canoe  had  disappeared  from  the  wharf.  It  was  nearly 
noon  when  Antoine  Cuillerier,  having  come  in  from 
the  woods  for  dinner,  announced  to  "  la  bonne 
mere,"  - 

"  Morbleu,  what  think  you,  ma  mie,  the  English 
prisoners  have  escaped  !  " 

His  daughter's  heart  leaped  for  joy. 

"  Escaped  !  "  echoed  the  dame.  "  Mon  Dieu,  in 
what  manner?" 

"  That  is  the  strangest  part  of  it ;  they  have  not 
left  the  faintest  trace  of  how  they  got  away,"  returned 
Cuillerier.  "  Meloche  dreads  the  wrath  of  Pontiac, 
but  the  Indian  guards  have  been  drunk  every  night 
since  the  capture  of  the  rum  meant  for  the  garrison 
at  the  stockade." 

"  Did  all  the  prisoners  gain  their  liberty?"  inquired 
Tante  Josette. 


266      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

So  engrossed  with  her  plan  had  Angelique  been 
that  she  had  not  taken  into  account  the  probability 
of  getting  the  Meloches  into  trouble.  With  many 
emotions  surging  in  her  heart,  she  tremblingly 
awaited  her  father's  answer. 

"The  lieutenant  and  a  trader;  not  the  captain," 
he  began.  "  Meloche  says  Monsieur  Campbell  re- 
joices over  the  escape  of  the  others,  yet  declares  he 
would  not  go  himself  because  he  had  given  his 
word  to  Pontiac.  The  more  fool  he ;  ha,  ha !  Still 
the  Great  Chief  will  be  mightily  appeased  thereby. 
Phouff,  'ma  Angelique,'  why  do  you  wax  so  white? 
Morbleu,  nowadays  our  women  are  so  easily  frighted, 
one  would  think  the  Indians  had  never  been  wont  to 
come  in  and  out  of  our  houses." 

"  Ay,  but  in  other  days  they  came  asking  for  food, 
and  it  was  never  denied  them.  Now  they  take  it  and 
often  deal  a  blow  in  the  bargain ;  only  yesterday  one 
of  our  Pani  women  was  so  beaten,"  protested  the 
girl,  recovering  herself. 

As  she  spoke,  Toussaint  entered  the   hearthroom. 

"  My  master,  the  canoe  of  Mademoiselle  Angelique 
is  missing,"  he  said. 

Angelique  clenched  her  hands,  and  exerted  all  her 
strength  of  will  to  keep  from  crying  out  in  terror. 
Antoine  Cuillerier  looked  more  sharply  at  his 
daughter.  Whether  he  suspected  that  she  had  aught 
to  do  with  the  escape  of  the  young  officer,  she  could 
not  determine.  Perhaps,  since  the  news  had  come 
that  the  Canadians  were  now  British  subjects  by  the 
will  of  their  own  King,  he  shrewdly  thought  that  if 
the  girl  had  acted  impetuously,  the  circumstance 
might  serve  him  well  with  the  English,  should  they 
prevail  against  the  Ottawa.  At  all  events,  he  said, 
with  an  assumption  of  anger,  — 


THE    PRICE    OF    VENGEANCE         267 

"  Angelique,  you  are  a  little  fool  to  let  your  canoe 
drift  away.  Toussaint,  say  not  a  word  to  any  one 
that  it  is  gone,  or  I  will  have  you  flogged.  'T  is 
an  accident  which  might  bring  trouble  to  us  from 
the  savages." 

Toussaint,  seeing  that  he  had  blundered,  withdrew 
in  doleful  distress.  It  needed  not  the  threat  to  keep 
him  silent ;  that  the  mystery  in  some  way  involved 
his  young  mistress  was  enough  to  insure  his  dumb- 
ness on  the  subject. 

While  these  events  were  happening  on  the  "  c6te 
du  nord,"  one  day  as  honest  Jacques  Baby  sat  at 
dinner  in  his  house  on  the  southern  margin  of  the 
strait,  an  Indian  girl  appeared  suddenly  in  the  door- 
way. 

"  Dame,  bring  some  bread  for  the  squaw,  and  bid 
her  be  gone,"  he  called  to  his  wife,  as  he  applied 
himself  anew  to  the  savory  morsel  of  "  cochon  au 
lait"  on  the  platter  before  him. 

But,  when  madame  returned,  the  girl  dashed  the 
proffered  dough-cake  to  the  ground. 

"  I  do  not  want  food,"  she  cried,  with  scorn.  "  I 
am  come  to  Jacques  Baby  because  it  is  said  he  is  a 
friend  to  the  commandant  at  the  fort.  Is  this  the 
truth?" 

Jacques  Baby  shifted  uneasily  in  his  chair.  The 
question  was  scarcely  a  safe  one  to  answer  in  these 
times. 

"  I  am  a  friend  to  Pontiac,"  he  responded  in  the 
patois  of  the  strait,  and  with  some  condescension. 
"The  Great  Ottawa  slept  here  by  my  hearth  last 
night;  the  English  at  New  York  would  pay  a  sum  of 
gold  equal  to  a  king's  ransom  for  his  capture, 
yet  I  did  not  give  him  up.  Is  the  forest  maiden 
answered  ?  " 


268     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  The  '  little  spirits  who  carry  the  news  '  say  also 
that  Jacques  Baby  is  called  by  the  redmen  Big  Heart, 
and  he  would  never  betray  one  who  has  slept  in  his 
lodge,"  pursued  the  Indian  doggedly.  "  If  he  would 
serve  the  commandant,  he  may  learn  what  the  white 
chief  would  wish  to  hear." 

The  irritation  of  the  habitant  was  appeased. 

"  How  do  they  call  the  daughter  of  the  forest?  "  he 
inquired. 

Unheeding  Dame  Baby's  glance  of  distrust,  the 
visitor  replied,  — 

"Nedawniss,  the  daughter  of  Makatepelicite,  is 
known  at  the  Huron  Mission  as  Catherine  the 
Ojibwa." 

The  dame  ceased  to  frown. 

"  'T  is  a  sweet-voiced  creature  who  leads  the  choir 
of  redskin  girls,"  she  volunteered. 

"  Catherine  the  Ojibwa,  who  pestered  the  major 
with  her  devotion  until  he  cast  her  out  of  the  fort," 
Baby  muttered  in  French. 

Therewith  pushing  back  his  chair  from  the  table, 
he  murmured  a  thanksgiving  more  sincere  than 
devout,  — 

"  For  a  savory  '  cochon  au  lait '  may  we  be  truly 
grateful;  "  and,  turning  to  the  girl,  continued,  "  If  the 
spirits  who  carry  the  news  have  word  of  anything  of 
moment  to  the  commandant,  perhaps  I  will  lend  them 
a  pirogue  to  take  it  across  the  river." 

Her  face  brightened. 

"  Listen,  then,  Big  Heart,"  she  said.  "  I  am  often 
known  as  leena  the  Wanderer,  for  like  the  deer  I 
love  to  roam  the  wilderness.  The  sun  has  risen  but 
twice  since  I  ascended  the  Riviere  au  Canard.  On  its 
banks  I  saw  encamped  the  Hurons  and  Pottawattomies. 
Putting  in  to  the  beach,  I  went  among  them.  The 


THE    PRICE   OF   VENGEANCE          269 

young  men  were  making  bows  and  arrows  of  hickory- 
wood  ;  the  squaws  were  twisting  strips  of  deerskin, 
and  stringing  the  bows  with  the  inner  bark  of 
elm.  Others  were  tying  wild  turkey  feathers  on  the 
arrows  to  guide  their  flight,  and  binding  on  the  poi- 
soned flintheads  with  the  finest  thread  from  the  rac- 
coon. Farther  on  I  came  upon  an  old  woman 
who  was  dyeing  quills.  I  sat  down  beside  her,  and, 
taking  some  of  the  beads  from  my  pouch,  offered 
them  in  exchange  for  the  quills.  The  generous 
bargain  made  her  as  happy  as  Onawut-a-qu-ta,  —  he 
who  catches  the  clouds.  But  I  too  appeared  well 
pleased. 

"  '  Noko,  old  mother,'  I  said,  '  there  is  much  work 
going  on  at  these  camps.  This  is  not  the  hunting 
season.  Why  do  your  young  men  and  maidens  make 
ready  the  arrows?  Have  not  your  people  treated  for 
peace  with  the  soldiers  at  the  stockade? ' 

"  The  Noko  laughed.  She  was  so  ugly  I  feared 
she  might  be  the  Mukakee  Mindemoca,  the  Toad- 
woman  ;  but  she  was  not,  for  the  Monedo  Kway,  the 
prophetess,  would  have  seen  my  heart. 

"  '  Our  people  are  at  work,'  she  said,  '  because  we 
have  word  from  the  Lake  of  the  Eries  that  a  barque 
freighted  with  stores  for  the  redcoats  is  on  its  way  to 
the  fort  —  '  " 

"  This  is  welcome  news  for  Major  Gladwin,"  cried 
Baby,  springing  to  his  feet.  "  I  will  see  that  it  reaches 
him ;  and  you  shall  be  recompensed,  Nedawniss." 

"  I  am  no  Indian  runner,  to  be  paid  with  baubles," 
broke  out  the  girl  passionately.  "  I  am  the  daughter 
of  a  chief;  what  I  do  for  the  English  I  do  as  a  friend 
and  ally." 

With  this  fervid  speech  she  passed  beyond  the 
doorway,  and  strode  across  the  prairie. 


270     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  Whew !  Mon  Dieu  !  "  ejaculated  Baby,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair ;  "  ma  mie,  saw  you  ever  an  arro- 
gance equal  to  the  pride  of  this  squaw?  " 

But  the  dame  had  betaken  herself  to  the  kitchen 
to  give  some  instructions  to  her  black  slave,  Monique. 

Two  days  later  the  ship  reached  the  Water  Gate, 
after  a  battle  with  the  savages  down  the  river.  Ex- 
asperated by  the  safe  arrival  of  the  provisions  for 
those  shut  up  in  the  stockade,  Pontiac  called  a  coun- 
cil of  the  habitants.  In  an  open  space,  surrounded  by 
the  lodges  of  the  various  tribes,  the  deputies  seated 
themselves  upon  the  ground,  and  the  Indians  took 
places  at  the  opposite  side  of  the  ring.  There  was 
an  interval  of  silence;  then  the  Great  Chief  rose,  and 
threw  down  the  war  belt  at  the  feet  of  the  French. 

"  My  brothers,"  he  said,  "  how  long  will  you  suffer 
this  bad  flesh  to  remain  on  your  lands?  The  Master 
of  Life  commands  that  all  the  English  must  perish 
throughout  New  France.  We  would  have  let  you  sit 
quiet  on  your  mats  while  we  fought  for  you ;  but  you 
are  not  our  friends.  You  sell  food  to  the  redcoats ; 
you  go  as  spies  to  our  villages ;  you  even  seek  to  free 
our  prisoners.  Do  not  deny  it.  It  was  in  a  canoe 
of  one  of  the  French  that  the  white  brave  escaped 
from  the  '  c6te  du  nord-est.' " 

At  this  St.  Aubin  protested  with  heat. 

"I  know  whereof  I  speak,"  answered  Pontiac 
laconically. 

"Morbleu,  mon  ami,  even  though  it  may  chance 
to  be  true  that  the  dog  of  an  Englishman  stole  a 
pirogue,  it  is  not  our  fault,"  grumbled  Jacques  Cam- 
peau.  "  Have  the  British  not  stolen  our  country?  " 

"  Nevertheless,  I  shall  find  out  who  owned  the 
canoe,  even  as  I  shall  one  day  discover  who  revealed 
to  the  redcoat  my  plan  to  rid  Le  Detroit  of  him  and 


THE   PRICE   OF   VENGEANCE          271 

his  people,"  returned  the  Ottawa.  "  I  bide  my  time, 
but  I  shall  know  at  last." 

The  majority  of  the  Canadians  heard  him  with 
indifference,  real  or  assumed.  If  the  countenance  of 
Antoine  Cuillerier  grew  a  shade  paler  at  the  threat 
of  his  friend  and  ally,  the  fact  was  scarcely  percep- 
tible beneath  the  leathery  texture  of  his  complexion. 
But  although  he  preserved  a  stolidity  of  expression, 
learned  from  his  associates  of  the  forest,  his  mind 
was  busy. 

"  Humph  !  if  Angelique  had  aught  to  do  with  this, 
it  may  cost  her  life,"  he  reflected.  "  I  wonder  if  she 
has  been  to  visit  Madame  Meloche?  I  shall  forbid 
her  to  cross  the  threshold  of  that  house,  even  though 
she  and  Baptiste's  young  wife  have  long  been  friends. 
I  must  tell  Pontiac  that  I  intend  to  marry  her  to 
Jasmin  de  Joncaire  ere  many  weeks.  But,  chut ! 
Angelique  knew  nothing  of  the  lieutenant's  scheme 
to  escape.  'T  was  the  boys  who  carelessly  left  the 
canoe  at  the  wharf." 

Having  thus  decided,  little  Antoine  again  gave  heed 
to  what  the  Great  Ottawa  was  saying. 

"  My  brothers,"  proceeded  Pontiac  decisively,  "  it 
is  not  well  that  brothers  should  fight  against  one 
another  for  the  sake  of  dogs,  but  you  must  be  wholly 
French  or  wholly  English.  Look  upon  the  belt,  and 
let  us  have  your  answer." 

At  this  point  Jacques  Campeau  stood  up  in  his 
place.  Unwilling  to  acknowledge  that  the  Canadians 
were  no  longer  subjects  of  the  King  of  France,  he 
was  resolved  to  continue  the  old  pretence  that  a 
French  army  was  on  its  way  to  drive  the  English  in- 
vaders from  New  France.  He  had  therefore  shrewdly 
brought  with  him  a  copy  of  the  capitulation  of  Mon- 
treal, instead  of  a  transcript  of  the  treaty  of  peace. 


272     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  My  brothers,"  he  said,  in  the  name  of  his  com- 
panions, "  we  would  gladly  join  with  you  in  driving 
away  the  redcoats  were  it  not  that  in  this  paper  our 
father,  the  Great  King,  tells  us  to  sit  quiet  and  obey 
the  English  until  his  soldiers  come.  When  our  father 
Monsieur  de  Bellestre  returns,  he  will  untie  the  cords 
that  hold  us  back  from  you." 

Pontiac  was  not  ^appeased,  however,  and  sullenly 
maintained  that  the  habitants  should  join  him  in  the 
war. 

At  last,  influenced  by  the  Ottawa's  harangue,  a 
man  who  occupied  an  honored  place  in  the  circle  got 
upon  his  feet.  It  was  Larron,  the  most  trusted  inter- 
preter of  the  British. 

"  Warriors,"  he  cried,  "  I  and  my  young  men,  these 
coureurs  de  bois,  voyageurs,  and  trappers,  are  ready 
to  follow  you.  Vive  le  Roi !  Vive  Pontiac,  his  ally  ! 
We  shall  soon  have  the  fort  and  all  that  is  in  it !  " 

Thereupon,  he  took  up  the  red  war  belt  and  passed 
it  to  his  comrades. 

"  Infamous  conduct  this,"  exclaimed  Charles  Parant 
to  his  neighbor  Baby. 

"  He  is  but  acting  as  the  spy  of  the  English,"  as- 
serted St.  Aubin. 

With  a  start  Antoine  Cuillerier  saw  his  own  son 
Alexis  among  the  wild  party  who  pledged  themselves 
to  follow  Pontiac.  Yet  he  said  nothing.  For  might 
not  the  action  of  this  reckless  boy  prevent  the  suspi- 
cion of  the  Great  Chief  from  falling  upon  Angelique, 
who  was  the  pride  of  old  Cuillerier's  heart?  Much 
as  the  bourgeois  loved  his  sons,  he  would  have  sacri- 
ficed them  all  for  this  beautiful  daughter. 

When  night  came,  a  party  of  Ottawas,  accompanied 
by  the  lawless  Frenchmen,  took  up  a  position  near 
the  fort,  and  made  ready  to  fire  upon  the  garrison  at 


THE    PRICE    OF   VENGEANCE         273 

daybreak.  Larron  was  not  among -them,  but  those 
who  knew  him  to  be  a  better  talker  than  fighter  only 
laughed  at  his  desertion.  The  officers  on  the  ram- 
parts soon  discovered  the  attacking  party,  and  in 
the  gray  dawn  a  bold  dash  was  made  upon  them 
from  the  stockade. 

To  James  Sterling  the  excitement  of  the  sortie  was 
as  the  smell  of  gunpowder  to  a  war-horse.  The  sol- 
dier spirit  of  the  Scot  burned  in  his  veins.  He  for- 
got the  death  blow  given  at  Culloden  to  the  cause  he 
loved :  remembered  only  that  he  was  fighting  for 
his  friends,  and  before  him  were  foes  to  be  routed. 
Thus  no  one  among  the  little  company  of  white 
men  fell  upon  the  Indians  and  renegades  with  more 
boldness. 

In  the  heat  of  the  skirmish  the  Scotchman  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  a  brave  in  the  Ottawa  war- 
dress. By  that  strange  proneness  of  the  mind  to  take 
note  of  trifles  in  moments  of  supreme  importance,  he 
observed  in  the  early  morning  light  that  the  face  of 
his  antagonist  was  daubed  with  ochre  and  vermilion, 
his  head  crowned  with  feathers,  and  upon  his  breast 
hung  a  necklace  of  wampum.  The  young  man  was, 
nevertheless,  not  an  Indian.  His  skin  was  a  swarthy 
olive,  not  copper  hued.  His  features  were  finer  than 
those  of  the  aborigines,  and  his  gaze  brighter,  if  per- 
haps less  keen. 

For  the  space  of  a  lightning  flash  the  two  combat- 
ants confronted  each  other,  while  a  gleam  of  recogni- 
tion leaped  into  the  eyes  of  each.  Then  the  wild 
Creole  deliberately  raised  his  musket,  and  took  aim  at 
Sterling's  heart. 

Were  it  not  for  one  of  those  fortunate  happenings 
which  seem  a  special  interposition  of  Providence,  the 
end  of  the  Scotchman  had  certainly  come.  But  the 
18 


274     THE    HEROINE    OF    THE    STRAIT 

flintlock  missed  fire,  and  so  close  were  the  men 
that  when  his  weapon  thus  failed  him,  the  Cana- 
dian found  himself  at  the  mercy  of  his  enemy.  In- 
stead of  shooting  him  down,  Sterling  disarmed  him, 
after  a  desperate  struggle. 

"  Renegade,"  he  cried,  "  you  are  the  brother  of 
Angelique  Cuillerier;  therefore  I  spare  your  life,  but 
you  are  my  prisoner." 

For  answer  the  young  habitant  cursed  his  luck 
roundly,  declaring  that  he  would  rather  die  than  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  English.  Sterling  paid  no  heed 
to  his  ravings,  and  perforce  he  gloomily  yielded  him- 
self a  captive. 

The  savages  and  coureurs  de  bois  were  now  scatter- 
ing over  the  prairie.  Among  the  last  to  flee  was  a 
stalwart  young  warrior  who  fought  with  extraordi- 
nary courage.  At  length,  after  a  volley  of  musketry, 
with  a  defiant  cry  he  sank  lifeless  to  the  ground, 
whereupon  a  soldier  running  forward  knelt  upon  the 
body  of  the  fallen  brave,  tore  away  the  scalp,  and 
with  an  exultant  shout  shook  it  toward  the  retreating 
savages. 

The  sallying  party  then  returned  to  the  fort.  Some 
hours  later,  the  men  upon  the  prairie  bastion  descried 
running  toward  the  stockade  a  fugitive  chased  by 
Indians.  When  he  arrived  near  enough  to  be  pro- 
tected by  the  guns,  they  abandoned  the  pursuit. 
Although  his  strength  plainly  began  to  fail,  the  man 
came  on.  The  wicket  of  the  great  gate  was  thrown 
open,  and,  rushing  in,  he  sank  exhausted  at  the  feet 
of  the  officer  of  the  guard. 

Major  Gladwin  was  soon  upon  the  spot. 

"  Zounds !  it  is  Lieutenant  Paully,  the  late  com- 
mandant at  Sandusky,"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  contem- 
plated the  lifeless  form  of  the  stranger. 


THE    PRICE    OF    VENGEANCE         275 

Before  long,  aided  by  a  generous  draught  of  the 
"  old  Jamaica,"  saved  with  the  ship's  cargo,  the  officer 
revived,  and  was  able  to  tell  his  story. 

"  The  Indian  woman  by  whom  I  found  myself 
adopted  in  so  droll  a  fashion  was  as  kind  as  a  mother 
to  me,"  he  said,  with  a  whimsical  smile.  "  Without  de- 
lay she  began  to  plan  for  my  escape,  and  to  that  end 
hid  me  in  a  French  house,  where  I  have  remained 
many  days  in  concealment.  Seeing  the  fight  with 
the  Indians  and  their  defeat,  I  concluded  that  they 
would  keep  away  from  the  neighborhood  for  the  rest 
of  the  day;  but  alack!  I  well-nigh  paid  with  my  life 
for  my  mistake.  Your  skirmishing  party  greatly 
angered  them.  The  Indian  scalped  by  one  of  your 
men  was  Waugoosh,  nephew  of  Wasson,  chief  of  the 
Sauteurs.  The  unfortunate  circumstance  bodes  no 
good  to  the  officers  and  garrison  of  this  fort." 

In  the  afternoon  of  this  same  day  la  belle  du  De- 
troit stood  at  the  gate  of  the  Cuillerier  palisade, 
looking  out  upon  the  river  road.  At  dawn  the  habi- 
tants of  the  c6te  had  been  awakened  by  the  noise  of 
the  fight  upon  the  prairie.  Later,  like  a  covey  of 
water-fowl,  a  fleet  of  Indian  canoes  had  swept  up  the 
river,  but  as  yet  no  definite  news  of  what  had  taken 
place  was  known  among  the  French;  for  the  wild 
young  men  who  had  joined  in  the  fray,  ashamed  of 
their  defeat,  had  betaken  themselves  to  the  woods. 

The  tranquillity  of  Nature  reigned  again.  The 
swift-flowing  current  of  the  strait  was  now  blue,  anon 
pearly,  and  again  a  rippling  tide  of  light,  as  it  re- 
flected the  sky,  the  fleecy  clouds,  the  midsummer 
sunshine. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  the  opal  in  the  brooch  of  my 
aunt,  Madame  des  Ruisseaux,"  soliloquized  Ange- 


276     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

lique,  as  she  viewed  the  broad  expanse.  "  That  is, 
if  anything  so  grand  as  this  shining,  ever-flowing  river 
may  be  likened  to  a  gem,  which  is  but  as  the  sparkling 
of  one  drop  from  its  clear  depths." 

Her  gaze  did  not  linger  long  upon  the  waters,  but 
was  presently  turned  again  toward  the  fort.  Strain 
her  eyes  as  she  would,  however,  the  demoiselle  could 
see  no  one.  With  a  girlish  frown,  as  though  vexed 
even  with  the  song  of  the  birds  because  they  sang  to 
her  no  tidings  of  her  lover,  she  turned  and  scanned 
the  upper  part  of  the  road  that  stretched  away  to 
Wind  Mill  Point,  behind  whose  wide  marshes  lay  the 
present  camp  of  Pontiac.  There  its  bark  huts  were 
less  exposed  to  the  fire  of  the  "  Beaver,"  which  still 
at  intervals  sailed  up  to  bombard  them. 

In  this  direction,  too,  the  highway  and  the  prairie 
were  solitary. 

"  The  redmen  had  the  worst  of  the  engagement," 
she  judged  shrewdly.  "  They  have  all  gone  back  to 
the  encampment." 

Growing  bolder,  she  ventured  into  the  road.  How 
calm  and  mysterious  seemed  the  forest,  like  a  wall 
reared  before  the  English,  a  barrier  that  bade 
them  advance  no  farther.  The  plains,  the  waters, 
they  had  claimed ;  the  woods  still  belonged  to  the 
Indian  and  his  French  brother.  And  how  pleasant 
was  the  prairie!  Yesterday,  the  Pani  slaves  of 
Antoine.  Cuillerier  had  mown  the  meadow  near  his 
farm  to  provide  food  for  the  ponies,  and  now  the 
air  was  sweet  with  the  fragrance  of  the  newly  cut 
grass. 

"Why,  what  is  this?"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "The 
nest  of  a  meadow-lark  that  in  some  marvellous  way 
escaped  the  mowers !  Or,  rather,  did  Toussaint,  the 
slow-witted  but  tender-hearted,  save  the  tiny  mother 


THE   PRICE    OF   VENGEANCE          277 

and  her  family,  and  transfer  them  to  the  shelter  of 
this  sumach  bush?" 

Angelique  bent  over  the  nest;  above  it  circled 
the  mother  bird  in  pitiful  distress.  Once,  as  it  flut- 
tered helplessly,  its  wings  brushed  her  cheek.  Now 
it  soared  away,  as  though  tempting  her  to  follow,  and 
all  the  while  the  featherless  fledglings  stretched  up 
their  mouths  and  uttered  the  faintest  of  sounds. 

"You  little  dears!"  cooed  Angelique.  "You 
poor  bird  mother,  do  not  flutter  and  fear.  I  love 
your  chirp  too  well  to  hurt  you.  See,  I  will  put  the 
nest  still  farther  under  the  bush.  Au  revoir.  When 
the  grass  grows  long  again,  some  of  your  nestlings 
will  sing  upon  the  meadow." 

With  a  laugh,  clear  as  the  voice  of  the  other  parent 
bird  which  now  returned  from  a  foraging  expedition 
with  a  twitter  of  concern,  the  demoiselle  rose  to  her 
feet.  As  she  proceeded  a  few  paces,  she  saw  issue 
upon  the  road  from  the  Meloche  palisade  a  portly 
man  who  walked  with  head  erect  and  an  air  of  military 
precision. 

"  Ah,  it  is  Monsieur  Campbell,  and,  I  doubt  not, 
he  is  coming  to  visit  us ;  for,  now  that  Pontiac  knows 
he  will  observe  his  parole  even  as  though  it  were 
given  to  the  King  of  France,  he  is  permitted  to  roam 
about  the  upper  part  of  the  c6te  at  his  pleasure,"  she 
said  aloud.  "  How  fine  is  his  bearing !  These  officers 
carry  themselves  with  well-nigh  as  much  distinction 
as  does  a  knight  of  St.  Louis." 

Catching  her  crimson  kerchief  from  her  neck,  she 
waved  it  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  captain. 

"  He  sees  it,"  she  cried  gaily.  "He  raises  his  hand 
in  response.  I  know  he  is  smiling.  I  will  run  indoors 
and  tell  la  bonne  mere  he  is  coming,  that  she  may 
prepare  for  him  a  sangaree  from  the  wine  of  the  strait 


278     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

It  will  be  acceptable  this  hot  afternoon.  No,  I  will 
await  him  here.  He  raises  his  hand  again  as  he 
comes  across  the  stretch  of  prairie.  Bon  jour,  bon 
jour,  monsieur  le  capitaine !  " 

In  girlish  glee,  Angelique  merrily  flaunted  and 
flourished  the  kerchief.  At  the  captain's  distance 
she  might  have  seemed  a  bird  just  ready  for  flight, 
so  light  and  graceful  was  her  poise.  Her  sun-bonnet 
fell  back,  the  soft  breeze  stirred  the  dark  wavy  hair 
that  hung  upon  her  shoulders,  and  played  with  the 
short  locks  which  curled  about  her  pretty  forehead ; 
her  cheeks  flushed  pink  as  the  eglantine.  Thus  an 
artist  might  have  painted  her  as  the  spirit  of  mirth 
and  laughter. 

But,  oh  God  !  what  is  it  that  causes  the  laugh  to  die 
upon  her  lips  and  her  face  to  blanch?  Why  does  she 
cry  out  in  terror  and  wave  the  kerchief  now  as  a 
signal  of  warning.  What  is  that  other  form  which 
a  moment  before  started  up  from  a  hollow  in  the 
prairie,  —  a  figure  that  follows  the  Englishman  like  a 
shadow  in  the  sun?  An  Indian?  Yes,  an  Indian 
with  uplifted  tomahawk. 

The  girl  trembles  in  every  limb ;  a  faintness  steals 
over  her,  but  she  struggles  against  it.  Once  more 
she  frantically  signals  to  the  captain.  Ah,  thank 
Heaven  he  understands.  He  turns;  the  tomahawk 
strikes  the  air.  Ha,  ha  !  he  is  saved  ;  he  will  shoot  his 
assailant.  Alack,  no;  and  Angelique  grows  weak  again 
as  the  remembrance  flashes  upon  her.  No,  the  cap- 
tain told  her  that  Pontiac  took  away  his  pistols.  But 
he  has  a  knife ;  he  draws  it  from  his  belt,  and  is  de- 
fending himself. 

"Toussaint,"  she  calls  at  the  top  of  her  voice. 
"  Toussaint !  Raphael !  " 

Juste  ciel,  it  is  a  terrible  fight !     Yet,  if  he  can  only 


THE    PRICE    OF    VENGEANCE          279 

keep  the  red  fiend  at  bay,  the  servants  of  Antoine 
Cuillerier  will  speedily  come  to  the  rescue. 

"  Jesu  !   Marie  !  " 

A  blind,  feminine  impulse  prompts  the  demoiselle 
to  rush  down  the  road  toward  the  grappling  men. 
She  has  gone  but  a  few  steps,  however,  when  she 
remembers  this  is  folly. 

"  Toussaint !  Raphael !  "  she  cries  again,  then 
speeds  onward  by  a  path  along  the  shore,  half-way 
down  the  bluff.  The  Indian,  being  younger,  lighter, 
and  better  armed  than  the  captain,  will  prevail  unless 
the  Panis  come  without  delay.  If  they  come  the 
savage  may  flee  to  save  his  own  life,  and  then,  she, 
la  Demoiselle  Cuillerier,  will  have  the  captain  borne 
back  to  her  father's  house,  where  she  will  tend  his 
wounds  and  nurse  him  back  to  strength. 

These  thoughts  surge  through  her  brain  as  she 
runs  on.  Her  head  being  upon  the  level  of  the  bluff, 
at  times  she  can  see  the  combatants.  Alas  !  the  cap- 
tain weakens ;  he  staggers  back ;  and  now, — 

"  My  God  !     My  God  !  " 

The  shouts  of  the  officer,  the  girl's  agonized  appeal 
to  Heaven,  bring  the  laborers  running  from  the  dis- 
tant fields  at  the  edge  of  the  forest.  But,  before  they 
reach  the  prairie  by  the  river  road,  an  Indian  yell  of 
triumph  rings  out  upon  the  air. 

It  is  followed  by  a  woman's  shriek,  so  wild  and 
frenzied  that  those  who  hear  hastily  cross  themselves 
as  they  hurry  on,  saying  to  one  another  that  it  might 
have  been  the  cry  of  a  suffering  soul  in  purgatory. 

Quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards,  Toussaint  and 
Raphael  found  their  young  mistress  unconscious  and 
inanimate,  fallen  with  her  face  pressed  to  the  earth 
in  a  marshy  bed  of  fleurs-de-lis  beside  the  footpath 
below  the  bluff. 


a8o     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

During  the  remainder  of  that  memorable  month 
of  July,  la  belle  Angelique  knew  little  of  what  went 
on  around  her.  The  shock  of  what  she  saw  that 
day  left  her  mind  a  blank  for  a  time,  and  again 
filled  it  with  strange,  weird  delusions.  Watched 
over  and  cared  for  as  she  was  by  her  mother  and 
Tante  Josette,  no  report  came  to  her  of  the  world 
beyond  the  narrow  walls  of  the  cool  little  room  on 
the  lower  floor  of  the  house,  which  had  been  pre- 
pared for  her.  Not  until  long  afterwards  did  she 
learn  that  the  mutilated  body  of  the  captain,  being 
cast  into  the  river,  floated  down  to  the  Cuillerier  pal- 
isade, as  to  her  feet. 

The  Sauteur  Wasson,  ostensibly  to  avenge  the  death 
of  Waugoosh,  had  taken  vengeance  upon  the  gallant 
white  chief  who  had  won  the  love  of  "  la  jolie  Mathu- 
rine." 

Angelique  was,  however,  spared  the  intelligence 
that  the  Sauteur  and  two  of  his  companions  had 
eaten  the  heart  of  the  intrepid  officer,  believing  it 
would  render  them  ever  courageous  in  battle. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIRST 

LOVE  THRIVES   IN  WAR 

WHEN  the  news  of  Mr.  Campbell's  tragic  fate 
reached  the  stockade,  great  was  the  indigna- 
tion of  the  besieged,  and  Major  Gladwin  promptly 
sent  by  Jacques  Baby  an  angry  message  to  Pontiac 
demanding  the  punishment  of  the  black-hearted  Was- 
son,  and  asking  with  haughty  scorn  if  in  this  manner 
the  Ottawa  kept  his  pledges,  and  how  he  deemed 
it  possible,  after  what  had  passed,  that  the  English 
could  place  reliance  upon  the  word  or  honor  of  a 
savage. 

To  this  taunting  charge  the  Indian  leader  replied 
in  a  missive  inscribed  upon  birch  bark  by  an  English 
prisoner. 

"  Pontiac,  chief  of  the  Ottawas  and  of  all  the  tribes 
of  the  north,  is  sorry  for  the  evil  that  Pah-hah-undoo- 
tah,  the  little  old  woman  who  makes  war,  has  brought 
to  the  Eagle  Heart,  Monsieur  Campbell,"  it  said. 
"  The  Ottawa  took  the  hand  of  the  Eagle  Heart  in 
friendship,  for  the  white  chief  did  not  treat  the  redman 
as  a  dog,  or  a  wolf,  Mawingawn.  His  blood  is  upon 
your  own  people.  You  say  Wasson  killed  the  Eagle 
Heart  because  he  hated  him.  That  may  be,  but 
he  would  not  have  dared  to  do  it  if  you  had  not 
enraged  his  braves  by  flinging  after  them  the  scalp 
of  Waugoosh.  I  would  put  Wasson  to  death,  but  he 
has  fled  to  Saginaw,  and  from  his  own  nation  I  can- 
not take  him." 


282     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

After  the  flight  of  the  Sauteur,  Pontiac  continued 
to  devise  new  plans  against  the  fort. 

Thus  it  came  about  that  one  night  during  the  time 
when  Angelique  Cuillerier  was  slowly  recovering 
from  the  nervous  shock  by  which  she  had  been  pros- 
trated, the  girl  was  aroused  by  the  sounds  of  an  Indian 
gathering  at  Parant's  Creek,  where  the  savages  were 
evidently  engaged  in  some  unaccustomed  occupa- 
tion. 

Wide  awake,  she  listened  restlessly,  her  head  aching 
and  confused.  All  at  once,  the  darkness  of  her  little 
room  was  illumined  by  a  sudden  flare  of  light  that 
glowed  blood-red  upon  the  white-washed  walls,  the 
rude  furniture,  and  the  uneven  puncheon  floor. 

Angelique  uttered  an  exclamation  of  terror.  Pres- 
ently summoning  her  strength,  she  dressed  in  fright- 
ened haste,  sped  through  the  hearthroom,  unbolted  the 
house-door,  and  ran  out  upon  the  gallery.  In  another 
second  Tante  Josette  was  beside  her.  Nor  were  they 
many  minutes  alone ;  the  whole  household  speedily 
hurried  out,  to  find  that  many  of  the  neighbors  were 
abroad  upon  the  river  road,  as  though  the  evening 
were  but  just  begun,  yet  the  clock  in  the  hearth- 
room  called  out  anon,  in  a  rasping  voice,  that  it 
was  one  o'clock. 

The  heavens  were  starlit,  but  down  in  the  direction 
of  the  fort  they  reflected  in  fainter  degree  the  light 
that  had  alarmed  the  excited  demoiselle.  Dame 
Cuillerier  hastened  to  the  end  of  the  gallery. 

"Look,  look!"  she  cried;  "one  of  the  English 
ships  is  ablaze  on  the  river." 

The  other  women  followed  to  her  coigne  of  vantage. 
Antoine  had  gone  to  the  gate  with  his  younger  boys ; 
the  older  sons  were  still  away  in  the  woods,  whither 
they  had  fled  after  the  skirmish  before  the  stockade. 


LOVE  THRIVES    IN    WAR  283 

"  No,  no  !  Whatever  the  conflagration,  it  is  not  fed 
by  either  of  the  ships,'"'  declared  Angelique.  "  See, 
in  the  fiery  gleam,  the  spars  and  rigging  of  the  barques 
stand  out  black  against  the  sky." 

An  ominous  silence  now  hung  over  the  strait;  a 
flotilla  of  ghostly  canoes  rode  upon  the  lurid  waters, 
and  presently,  as  the  little  group  of  women  watched, 
down  the  river,  beyond  the  point  of  land  which  hacl 
obstructed  their  view,  floated  a  great  burning  mass, 
a  bulk  of  flame  that  drifted  straight  toward  the  ships. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  what  can  it  be  ? "  ejaculated  Tante 
Josette. 

"  What  is  afire,  mon  ami?  "  called  la  bonne  mere  to 
her  husband,  who  came  trudging  back  through  the 
garden. 

Antoine  Cullerier  chuckled  to  himself  in  high  good 
humor. 

"Parbleu,  the  Great  Chief  is  clever  as  a  fox," 
he  said ;  "  our  gracious  King  Louis  should  give  him 
the  decoration  of  a  general.  He  has  sent  a  burning 
raft  down  the  river  to  destroy  the  enemy's  ships. 
For  hours  his  braves  have  been  making  it  ready. 
Charles  Parant  tells  me  't  is  most  ingeniously  con- 
structed of  two  barges  tied  together  and  filled  with 
pitch  pine  and  dry  brushwood.  How  cheerily  it 
blazes !  Ha,  ha !  The  intruders  will  be  helpless 
enough  now." 

"  Cheerily,"  repeated  Angelique  under  her  breath. 
"  Misericorde,  how  this  strife  changes  men  until  they 
seem  to  partake  of  the  ferocity  of  the  wild  creatures 
of  the  wilderness." 

King  Louis  had  said  he  did  not  want  New  France, 
a  land  of  ice  and  snows ;  why,  then,  should  the  Creoles 
of  Canada  grasp  at  the  hand  that  shook  them  off?  The 
girl  no  longer  wished  to  be  French,  nor  yet  English ; 


284     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

a  new  spirit  was  stirring  in  her  soul,  —  the  spirit  of 
liberty,  the  birthright  of  the  western  world. 

How  unconscious  are  the  men  in  the  ships,  the 
officers  and  garrison  at  the  fort,  of  the  impending 
frustration  of  their  only  chance  of  escape  to  Niagara, 
their  approaching  doom !  And  Monsieur  Sterling, 
who  has  cast  in  his  lot  with  them,  will  he  share 
their  fate? 

With  an  anxious  heart,  Angelique  remains  motion- 
less, her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  raft.  Onward  it  drifts, 
beneath  the  calm  sky,  between  the  wide  prairies  that 
bound  the  strait,  onward  past  the  white  Canadian 
farmhouses,  that  in  the  light  of  the  burning  pine  and 
birch  bark  stand  out  boldly  from  their  dark  back- 
ground of  trees  and  lonely  plain. 

It  is  almost  upon  the  ships.  But  now  —  ciel,  can 
the  watchers  trust  their  eyes?  Yes,  now  it  has  floated 
past  the  barques,  missing  them  by  the  distance  of  an 
arpent !  Onward  it  holds  its  course,  beyond  the 
Huron  Mission,  beyond  the  village  of  the  Pottawat- 
tomies.  But,  unharmed,  the  stanch  little  ships,  the 
"  Beaver  "  and  the  "  Gladwin,"  ride  at  anchor  in  the 
river. 

The  feast  of  "  the  good  Ste.  Anne "  found  many 
of  the  habitants  gathered  at  the  small  chapel  of  the 
"  c6te  du  nord-est." 

To  the  Vespers  came  Clotilde  Godefroy,  smiling  and 
serene,  as  though  there  were  not  an  Indian  within 
many  hundred  leagues. 

"  Ma  foi,  cherie,  you  must  have  a  mind  at  ease ; 
have  you  not  found  your  hearth  dreary,  and  been 
much  disquieted  from  fear  of  the  savages  during  the 
absence  of  your  husband?  "  queried  Angelique,  as  she 
greeted  the  young  dame  after  the  service. 


LOVE   THRIVES   IN   WAR  285 

"  Vraiment,  of  loneliness  I  must  plead  guilty ;  but 
of  fear,  I  have  shared  the  alarm  of  my  neighbors,  that 
is  all,"  answered  Clotilde,  in  sprightly  fashion,  "  for 
my  father  took  me  home." 

"  I  might  have  known  as  much,  meeting  you  here 
above  the  fort.  Eh  bien,  as  a  protector,  Major 
Chapoton  is  equal  in  courage  to  a  whole  regiment  of 
soldiers,"  her  friend  admitted  readily. 

"As  for  my  mind,"  continued  Madame  Clotilde, 
"  well,  't  is  said  '  a  blithe  heart  makes  a  blooming 
visage/  and  much  reason  have  I  to  be  happy.  My 
Jacques  is  come  back  from  his  journey." 

"  Returned  ?  Now  surely  you  can  reveal  where 
he  has  been?"  coaxed  the  girl,  with  feminine  cu- 
riosity. 

"  I  can  only  say  that  all  day  he  has  been  on  the 
southern  shore  at  an  Indian  pow-wow,"  admitted  the 
young  wife. 

"  Oh,  if  you  will  tell  me  nothing,  au  revoir,  Clotilde," 
cried  Angelique.  "  I  pray  you,  give  a  kiss  to  your 
pretty  young  Son  for  me,  and  tell  him  he  shall  have 
a  mocockful  of  maple  sugar  comfits  if  he  will  come 
to  see  me." 

"  Chut,  you  shall  not  beguile  the  boy  by  your  arts, 
mademoiselle,"  jested  Madame  Godefroy.  "  He  tells 
me,  he  will  never  love  any  other  woman  but  his 
mother;  and  I  hope  to  keep  him  in  the  same  mind 
for  twenty  years  to  come,  or  at  least  until  a  beard 
begins  to  darken  his  rosy  cheeks." 

"  And  in  his  baby  prattle  he  has  already  sworn  I 
shall  be  his  wife,"  returned  the  girl.  "  Alas  !  the  du- 
plicity of  man,  even  in  his  infancy." 

With  a  laugh  she  ran  away,  but  once  more  alone 
on  the  road,  stopped  short  and  gazed  absently  into 
the  river. 


286     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  When  will  Le  Detroit  be  at  peace?  "  she  sighed. 
"  Will  it  be  when  Marianne's  English  bridegroom 
comes?  If  so,  may  fair  winds  waft  him  hither." 

At  the  home  of  Madame  des  Ruisseaux  within  the 
stockade,  Angelique's  passing  wish  was,  with  Marianne 
de  St.  Ours,  a  daily  prayer.  Wherever  she  went,  a 
presentiment  of  evil  seemed  to  peer  covertly  at  her, 
like  "  sorrow's  spy."  But  she  strove  to  banish  from  her 
thoughts  this  Gorgon  visage  which  to  her  imagination 
took  the  form  of  the  stony  Indian  countenance  of  the 
fabled  prophetess,  Moneda  Kway.  Her  rest  was 
haunted  by  many  omens,  —  the  hooting  of  an  owl  from 
a  tree  in  the  garden,  the  barking  of  ghostly  dogs,  the 
mysterious  voices  of  bells  ringing  in  mid-air.  Yet 
"for  Dalzell's  sake  I  will  be  brave,"  she  said;  "when 
he  comes  all  will  be  well." 

Marianne  did  not  mean  to  be  selfish.  She  told 
herself  that  she  longed  for  the  coming  of  the  con- 
voy because  it  would  bring  additional  defenders  and 
much-needed  supplies  to  the  post ;  but  to  her  it  meant 
none  of  these  things.  It  meant  only  Dalzell,  and 
love,  and  happiness. 

One  morning  toward  the  last  of  July,  when  she 
looked  from  her  window,  it  was  to  sigh  with  a  dis- 
appointment more  keen  than  usual;  she  could  not 
see  the  river,  for  a  thick  fog  had  built  a  great  outer 
wall  about  the  fort.  An  hour  later  the  first  rays  of 
the  rising  sun  changed  the  white  mists  to  golden 
billows,  which  rolled  away  like  the  waves  of  a  phantom 
ocean,  revealing  the  opalescent  surface  of  the  strait, 
the  dark  forests,  the  beautiful  prairies  that  border  Le 
Detroit. 

In  those  days  it  was  considered  a  mark  of  good 
breeding  as  well  as  of  piety  for  dames  and  demoiselles 
to  go  daily  to  church.  It  was  but  courteous  to  thank 


LOVE   THRIVES    IN   WAR  287 

the  Lord  by  an  act  of  public  worship  for  the  bless- 
ings the  day  might  hold. 

As  Marianne  stepped  forth  from  the  house-door 
on  her  way  to  Ste.  Anne's,  a  cannon  shot  boomed 
threateningly  from  the  water  bastion,  and  at  the 
sound  the  French  who  were  not  in  the  street  ran  out 
of  their  homes,  demanding  of  the  patrol  what  the 
report  might  portend. 

"  Faith,  'tis  a  warning  to  another  batch  of  Injuns 
that  have  come  to  join  the  red  naigers  that  do  be  pep- 
pering us  with  their  shots.  Shure,  we  ought  to  be  as 
hot  as  Calcutta  curry,  bad  cess  to  them,"  rejoined  the 
soldier  O'Desmond,  raising  his  musket  and  critically 
examining  the  flint,  while  with  nonchalant  coolness 
he  strove  to  calm  the  affrighted  women  and  children. 

"  Don't  ye  be  afeard,  me  darlin'  ladies.  Ivery  man 
on  the  ramparts  has  a  dose  of  lead  ready  for  the  red 
naigers.  And  like  the  prescriptions  of  ould  Dandy 
the  apothecary  in  me  own  town  at  home,  it  is  war- 
rented  to  kill  or  cure  without  fail !  " 

Not  waiting  to  hear  more,  Mademoiselle  de  St.  Ours 
hurried  on.  Twice  during  the  service  the  shot  from 
the  swivel  was  repeated,  and  each  time  the  good 
women  who  formed  the  little  congregation  bent  their 
heads  lower,  and  petitioned  Heaven  to  save  the  town 
from  the  savages. 

As  they  flocked  out  of  the  church,  a  dull  boom, 
which  seemed  to  come  from  far  across  the  water, 
caused  them  to  start  and  exchange  glances  of  ques- 
tioning surprise.  Could  that  be  an  answering  shot 
from  some  gallant  ship  making  its  way  up  the  river? 

"  Is  it  the  convoy  ? "  Marianne  tremulously  de- 
manded of  the  sentry. 

"  Divil  a  doubt,"  was  the  quick  response.  "  Ahem, 
ahem,"  and  the  discomfited  fellow  strove  to  cover  his 


288     THE    HEROINE    OF    THE   STRAIT  . 

blunder  with  a  cough.  "  I  ask  your  pardon,  mademe- 
selle ;  I  speak  lightly  of  the  prince  of  darkness,  be- 
cause I  have  no  respect  for  him." 

The  demoiselle,  however,  had  already  passed  on, 
to  join  the  throng  of  women  who  had  followed  the 
townsmen,  officers,  and  soldiers  to  the  ramparts. 
Yes,  there,  far  down  the  river,  were  two  dark  objects 
like  clouds  upon  the  horizon.  As  she  watched  them 
wistfully,  James  Sterling  paused  beside  her. 

"Mademoiselle,  already  the  air  is  filled  with  the 
music  of  your  marriage  bells,"  he  said,  with  smiling 
significance,  offering  her  his  lens. 

Marianne  took  it  with  a  trembling  hand,  and 
scanned  the  distance  where  the  sky  and  waters  met. 

"  How  pretty  she  is,"  mentally  commented  the 
merchant,  as  he  noted  her  blushing  confusion.  "  By 
the  Braes  of  Balquhidder,  the  British  may  conquer 
the  strait,  but  la  jolie  Canadienne  will  continue  to 
conquer  the  British !  Le  Detroit  will  still  be  French 
for  many  a  day !  " 

And  then  he  told  her  that  Major  Gladwin  had  em- 
barked upon  the  "  Beaver,"  and  gone  down  to  meet 
the  convoy. 

On  came  the  barges,  but  as  they  reached  the  point 
between  the  Huron  village  on  the  southern  and  the 
Pottawattomie  settlement  on  the  northern  shore,  they 
were  greeted  by  a  sharp  fire  from  both  banks  of  the 
river.  A  short  engagement  ensued,  but  the  guns  of 
the  ships  promptly  put  the  savages  to  rout,  and,  this 
danger  passed,  the  barques  sailed  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  finally  landed  the  troops  on  the  strand  outside 
the  fort,  amid  the  cheers  of  the  garrison. 

Marianne  with  the  other  women  hurried  to  the 
water  gate.  Despite  the  press  of  the  throng  of  shout- 
ing soldiers,  excited  Frenchmen,  babbling  dames  and 


LOVE   THRIVES   IN   WAR  289 

"  fillettes,"  and  clamorous  children,  she  gained  an 
excellent  position  whence  to  observe  the  entry  of  the 
reinforcements,  thanks  to  Jasmin  de  Joncaire,  who 
made  way  for  her. 

What  a  grand  spectacle  it  was  to  watch  the  new- 
comers disembark!  The  girl's  spirits  rose  higher; 
she  would  fain  have  cheered  with  the  good  folk 
around  her;  she  did  flutter  her  kerchief  with  joyous 
enthusiasm. 

What  a  great  panacea  is  happiness  !  Could  this 
bright-eyed,  light-hearted  girl  be  the  same  Mademoi- 
selle de  St.  Ours  who  had  waited  in  pale  patience  for 
this  hour  during  the  long  weeks  of  the  fateful  summer? 

"  A  fine  showing  the  men  make  in  their  gay  green 
uniforms,"  exclaimed  an  apple-cheeked  matron  ad- 
miringly, as  the  detachment  came  up  from  the  beach. 

"  Vive,  vive,  le  regiment  vert !  "  called  out  a  lively 
maid,  who,  like  Marianne,  had  an  English  sweetheart. 

The  cry  was  taken  up  by  her  friends.  It  was  be- 
coming intolerably  dreary  to  these  Creole  dames  and 
demoiselles  to  be  shut  within  the  narrow  limits  of  the 
stockade ;  to  be  forced  to  forego  their  visits  to  neigh- 
bors along  the  c6te,  their  pleasant  evenings  upon  the 
river. 

"  Vive,  vive,  the  green  regiment !  "  re-echoed  the 
crowd,  who  welcomed  the  stalwart  soldiers  as  de- 
liverers. 

At  the  head  of  each  company  marched  its  officers, 
with  the  military  precision  which  distinguished  the 
British.  How  eagerly  Marianne  peered  at  their  faces  ! 
Valiant,  strong  men  they  were,  but  her  heart  sank ; 
all  were  strange  to  her. 

"Jesu,  Marie,  is  he  not  come?"  she  murmured, 
still  hoping,  yet  with  a  chill  of  disappointment  creep- 
ing over  her. 

19 


290     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

There  was  a  short  delay,  then  up  the  strand  came 
a  small  band  of  men  in  buckskin,  half  soldiers,  half 
scouts,  their  leader  tall,  and  sturdy  of  frame  and 
rough  in  feature. 

"  Major  Rogers  and  his  provincials  !  "  shouted  the 
garrison.  "  Hurrah  for  Rogers !  Hurrah  for  the 
rangers !  " 

Marianne  smiled  absently.  It  was  well  that  Major 
Rogers  was  come ;  but  —  but  —  She  glanced  be- 
yond him.  The  last  of  the  troops  were  leaving  the 
boats.  She  drew  back,  not  daring  to  watch  longer, 
lest  it  should  be  only  to  learn  that  he,  for  whom  she 
waited,  was  not  among  them. 

Yet  she  must  know  the  truth  at  once ;  this  suspense 
was  not  to  be  endured.  Again  she  turned  her  gaze 
toward  the  chink  in  the  wall  of  cheering  people  that 
lined  both  sides  of  the  way.  As  she  did  so,  her  heart 
fluttered  like  a  bird,  and  then  seemed  to  stand  still. 
She  felt  a  tightening  at  her  throat  as  if  a  hand  were 
laid  upon  it;  tears  dimmed  her  eyes,  and  yet  she 
could  have  laughed  out  in  gladness.  Yes,  there  in 
the  van  of  his  men  was  a  handsome  young  officer, 
whose  splendid  bearing  bespoke  a  noble  pride  and 
courage,  whose  nervous  step,  and  the  red  color  that 
mounted  to  his  brow  at  the  cheers  of  the  populace, 
marked  him  as  a  man  of  impetuous  and  ardent  char- 
acter. 

Yes,  it  was  Dalzell,  the  gallant  aide-de-camp  of  Sir 
Jeffrey  Amherst. 

As  he  came  on,  the  subtle  sub-consciousness 
wherein  soul  acts  upon  soul  told  him  that  Marianne 
was  near,  and  drew  his  eyes  toward  her.  The  next 
moment,  by  a  singular  coincidence,  the  crowd  parted, 
so  that  she  seemed  to  stand  out  alone  from  a  confused 
background  of  faces. 


LOVE   THRIVES   IN   WAR  291 

For  a  second  the  gaze  of  the  officer  and  the  demoi- 
selle met,  somewhat  as  James  Sterling  and  Angelique 
Cuillerier  had  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  when  the 
British  had  first  landed  at  Le  Detroit,  yet  with  a  dif- 
ference. Between  Sterling  and  Angelique  had  flashed 
the  glance  that  awakens  love,  while  this  was  love's 
question  and  answer,  the  mutual  assurance  of  a  troth 
well  kept. 

A  glad  light  leaped  into  the  eyes  of  Dalzell,  a 
gleam  of  passionate  devotion  that  held  the  sweet,  shy 
gaze  of  the  girl.  He  smiled  sunnily,  and  with  confi- 
dence, as  a  true-hearted  man  smiles  upon  the  woman 
he  loves  and  longs  to  shield  from  the  sorrows  of  the 
world.  It  was  all  swift  as  the  flight  of  a  sea  gull ; 
in  another  minute  he  had  passed. 

By  that  glance  of  mutual  love,  Marianne  and  the 
officer  were  betrothed  anew;  but,  now  that  he  was 
gone  on  toward  the  council  house,  to  Mademoiselle 
de  St.  Ours  the  sunlight  seemed  to  grow  dim ;  her 
brain  reeled,  her  limbs  became  weak,  and  presently 
she  lost  all  knowledge  of  what  was  happening  around 
her. 

"  Poor  demoiselle,"  cried  the  rosy-faced  girl  who 
had  given  the  green  regiment  its  name,  "  I  have  heard 
that  the  handsome  English  officer  is  her  lover;  and, 
at  the  escape  of  the  convoy  from  the  Indian  vultures 
of  the  lakes,  she  has  fainted  for  joy." 

"Nom  de  Ste.  Anne,  what  a  shocking  disregard 
of  '  les  convenances  ' !  To  think  that  a  niece  of  mine 
should  rush  out  among  the  crowd  to  obtain  a  first 
glimpse  of  her  lover,  like  any  fillette  of  the  humbler 
order !  "  exclaimed  Madame  des  Ruisseaux,  as  she 
sat  in  the  high-backed  chair  near  the  chimney-piece 
in  her  little  parlor.  "  Were  it  an  escapade  of  that 


292     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

madcap,  Angelique  Cuillerier,  I  should  not  so  much 
marvel;  but  for  you  to  so  forget  your  dignity,  Mari- 
anne, you  who  are  wont  to  be  as  timid  and  retiring 
as  a  mouse  !  " 

Marianne  had  been  flitting  restlessly  about  the 
room.  At  this  reproach,  she  glided  to  her  aunt's 
side  and  clasped  her  white  hands  around  the  old 
dowager's  neck,  kissing  the  faded  cheek  that  had 
once  been  one  of  the  fairest  at  Le  Detroit,  and  the 
soft  curls  that  made  the  dame  the  picture  of  a  great 
lady  of  the  French  court. 

"  Of  course,  ma  tante,  I  should  have  sat  quietly  at 
home  and  awaited  the  coming  of  Captain  Dalzell," 
the  younger  woman  admitted,  with  a  winsome  affecta- 
tion of  penitence ;  "  but  when  you  were  young,  and 
the  Sieur  Trottier  des  Ruisseaux  came  home  from 
the  wars,  did  you  stop  to  think  that  others  might  be 
taking  note  of  every  look  you  gave  him?  " 

"  Chut !  chut !  mayhap  I  did  not,"  relented  the 
stately  mentor,  her  heart  touched  by  the  unexpected 
demonstration  of  affection  from  the  reserved  Mari- 
anne. "  But  why  does  your  captain  tarry?  Nom  de 
3te.  Anne,  it  was  not  thus  when  I  was  your  age, 
and  Des  Ruisseaux  sued  for  my  favor!" 

Marianne  smiled.  Had  she  not  exchanged  that 
glance  with  her  lover  as  he  marched  up  to  the  British 
headquarters,  possibly  she  too  might  have  thought 
him  lacking  in  ardor.  But  his  look  of  love,  the 
brightening  of  his  countenance  as  he  caught  sight  of 
her, — these  caresses  of  the  soul  had  filled  her  with 
trust;  her  heart,  like  a  shy  little  thrush,  sang  a  song 
of  happiness  over  and  over  to  itself. 

"  He  will  come  the  first  moment  that  he  is  free," 
she  said  confidently,  and  darted  away  once  more  to 
peer  from  behind  the  window  curtain  into  the  street, 


LOVE   THRIVES    IN   WAR  293 

where  gaily  attired  townspeople  and  the  new  soldiers  in 
their  smart  uniforms  continually  passed  and  repassed. 

Presently  she  saw  coming  from  the  council  house 
the  robust  O'Desmond,  who  stepped  briskly  down 
the  thoroughfare  as  though  bent  upon  some  special 
commission.  The  jovial  soldier  was  not  an  ideal 
messenger  of  Cupid.  His  rollicking  air,  the  gleam 
of  humor  in  his  blue  eyes,  appeared  more  like  to  put 
the  little  winged  god  to  flight.  And  yet,  some  of  the 
"  fillettes  "  of  the  strait,  daughters  of  the  artisans,  and 
small  traders,  and  coureurs  de  bois,  were  wont  to  say 
that  no  man  among  the  garrison  could  make  love  so 
well  as  the  witty  Irishman. 

Straight  as  a  shaft  from  the  bow  he  came  toward 
the  home  of  Madame  des  Ruisseaux,  and  Marianne 
felt  sure  he  brought  some  word  from  her  lover.  As 
he  approached  nearer  she  let  fall  the  curtain  and 
drew  back  into  the  room,  breathing  quickly.  A 
sharp  rap  on  the  house-door  reassured  her;  and  de- 
spite a  faint  protest  from  her  aunt,  she  fled  to  open  it 
and  learn  the  errand  of  the  messenger. 

Standing  on  the  door-stone,  O'Desmond  touched 
his  cap  with  a  flourish  that  for  the  occasion  seemed 
to  him  more  fitting  than  the  military  salute. 

"  Mademeselle,  the  little  luck  spirits  that  the  red 
naigers  do  be  always  talking  about  have  been  kind 
to  Larry  O'Desmond,  since  they  have  sent  him  with 
a  word  to  so  beautiful  a  lady  as  yourself,"  he  said 
with  the  inimitable  blending  of  respect  and  audacity 
which  make  one  believe  the  Irish  tongue  to  be  the 
true  language  of  compliment. 

"  You  have  a  message  for  me?"  demanded  Mari- 
anne, with  smiling  impatience. 

"  Yes,  mademeselle ;  a  bit  of  a  note,"  he  answered, 
producing  the  billet. 


294     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

Joyously  unfolding  the  three-cornered  scrap  of 
paper,  she  read  the  few  words  scrawled  upon  a  leaf 
hastily  torn  from  an  officer's  pocket-book,  — 

"  BELOVED,  —  You  know  full  well  were  I  to  follow  the 
leadings  of  my  will  I  should  be  with  you  now.     I  am  de- 
tained here  at  headquarters  by  a  council  of  war.    Within  an 
hour,  however,  I  hope  to  clasp  you  to  my  heart. 
"  Yours  forever, 

DALZELL." 

For  a  few  moments,  the  girl  forgot  the  messenger. 
Then  recovering  herself,  she  said,  confusedly,  — 

"Thank  you,  Monsieur  O'Desmond;  there  is  no 
answer." 

The  soldier  grinned,  saluted  once  more,  and  retired. 

"  Shure,  love  is  the  same  in  every  country,"  he 
soliloquized,  as  he  trudged  onward  to  the  barracks. 
"  Whether  it  shines  back  at  you  from  the  eyes  of  a 
contrary  Irish  colleen,  a  shy  English  maid,  or  a 
pretty  Canadienne,  't  is  the  same  sweet  light  that 
warms  a  man's  heart  like  a  ray  of  God's  own  blessed 
sunshine !  "  Which  goes  to  show  that  the  gallant 
O'Desmond  had  no  little  experience  in  the  tender 
passion  that  makes  gods  of  men. 

Before  the  hour  was  over  Dalzell  came. 

"At  last,  sweetheart,"  he  said,  as  he  folded  his 
betrothed  to  his  honest  breast,  "  at  last  we  are  re- 
united, and  for  all  our  lives.  I  am  come  to  claim  you 
as  my  wife.  Hereafter,  even  when  a  soldier's  duty 
calls  me  from  your  side,  being  wed,  made  one  in  soul, 
we  can  never  again  be  parted." 

As  is  usual  with  one  of  a  calm  deep  nature, 
Marianne  said  little  in  response  to  his  fervid  words. 
But  her  heart  thrilled  with  the  content  of  an  innocent 
girl  whose  every  earthly  joy  and  hope  is  centred  in 


LOVE   THRIVES   IN   WAR  295 

her  love,  whose  every  tender  emotion  becomes  a  pas- 
sionate prayer  to  Heaven  for  the  welfare  of  her  lover. 

During  the  weeks  that  had  passed,  when  she  sat 
sewing  upon  her  simple  bridal  outfit,  while  her  busy 
fingers  flew  and  her  eyes  saw  only  the  swiftly  glanc- 
ing needle,  all  her  life  was  blossoming  inwardly.  Like 
the  thread  of  silver  that  ran  through  the  amethyst 
beads  of  the  small  chaplet  given  to  her  by  the  nuns 
of  the  Ursuline  convent,  her  days  were  linked  to- 
gether by  the  sweet  consciousness  of  her  love,  by  the 
thought  of  Dalzell.  Now  her  joy  was  so  great  that 
she  thought  such  must  be  the  bliss  of  Heaven.  Yet 
no  !  in  Heaven  the  intensity  of  love  brings  with  it  no 
sense  of  pain,  and  now  it  seemed  to  her  that  her 
heart  could  not  hold  so  much  happiness ;  that  it  must 
break,  as  sometimes  a  little  crystal  votive  lamp 
before  the  shrine  of  Ste.  Anne  was  shattered  by  the 
strength  of  the  flame  that  burned  within  it. 

"  Dearest,  why  do  you  not  speak  to  me  ? "  half 
chided  her  lover. 

"I  —  I  —  am  so  happy,  it  frightens  me,"  she 
faltered  tremblingly.  "Surely,  no  one  can  be  so 
happy  and  continue  to  live." 

Dalzell  laughed  breezily  with  the  confidence  of 
a  practical  man  who  takes  life  as  he  finds  it.  He  did 
not  understand  his  demoiselle's  timid  fears  and  self- 
questionings. 

"  Do  not  burden  your  heart  with  such  doubts,  dear 
one,"  he  said,  smoothing  the  braids  of  her  brown  hair 
as  one  might  soothe  a  child.  "  Since  the  world 
began,  perhaps  no  lovers  have  loved  with  a  greater 
degree  of  tenderness,  of  trust,  and  perfect  sympathy, 
than  exists  between  us.  But  many  in  every  age 
have  loved  during  long  years  of  wedded  happiness. 
Why  should  not  we?" 


296     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

Marianne  smiled.  Being  as  head  over  ears  in 
love  as  was  this  hot-headed  soldier,  she  was  entirely 
ready  to  believe  what  most  lovers  aver,  yet  only  the 
first  dwellers  in  Eden  could  say  with  truth,  that  none 
before  them  ever  knew  so  well  the  bliss  of  worthy 
love. 

Thus  for  a  brief  space  she  and  the  captain  planned 
their  future.  Then,  all  too  soon,  Madame  des  Ruis- 
seaux  bustled  into  the  room  with  formal  greetings 
and  an  invitation  to  dinner. 

Tempting  as  were  the  viands  of  this  little  f£te  pre- 
pared in  his  honor,  the  young  officer  found  to  his  own 
surprise  that  he  had  slight  relish  for  them.  It  was 
feast  enough  to  sit  beside  Marianne,  to  hear  her  joyous 
laugh,  to  note  the  charm  and  grace  of  her  manner, 
and  to  know  that  she  loved  him  with  all  her  heart, 
even  as  he  loved  her. 

At  the  gala  repast  Madame  des  Ruisseaux  presided 
with  urbane  state,  but  her  duties  as  hostess  being 
over  she  considerately  left  the  lovers  to  themselves 
once  more.  When  at  a  late  hour  Dalzell  lingered  at 
the  house-door  over  his  "  good-night,"  he  said,  return- 
ing to  the  subject  they  had  discussed  at  intervals 
during  the  evening,  "  Then  you  will  grant  me  this, 
sweetheart?  Let  our  marriage  be  the  day  after  to- 
morrow? I  will  arrange  all  matters  with  the  cure"  in 
the  morning." 

Still  Marianne  demurred,  as  though  in  truth  she' 
had  not  been  long  prepared  for  her  wedding. 

"  As  you  love  me,  do  not  plead  for  more  delay, 
dear  one,"  he  urged. 

"  Bien,  then  it  shall  be  as  you  will,"  she  whispered, 
and  with  shy  smiles  received  his  kiss  of  thanks. 

"  With  this  your  promise  to  cheer  me,  I  shall  be 
ready  to  lead  my  men  to-morrow  with  a  gay  heart," 


LOVE   THRIVES   IN   WAR  297 

he  exclaimed.  "  Sometime  during  the  day  I  shall  see 
you  again,  beloved;  not  until  night  do  we  go  out  to 
attack  the  enemy." 

"  You  go  to  attack  the  enemy?  "  repeated  the  girl, 
growing  suddenly  white  and  anxious.  "  I  do  not 
understand  ; "  and  she  put  a  hand  to  her  head  in 
dazed  confusion. 

"  It  is  only  this,"  he  made  answer  with  affected 
carelessness.  "  I  asked  to  come  to  Le  Detroit  that 
I  might  marry  my  betrothed.  General  Amherst 
granted  my  request,  but  he  also  commissioned  me  to 
help  to  end  the  siege  of  this  town.  Hard  upon  my 
arrival,  a  council  of  war  was  held,  and  I  begged  leave 
of  Major  Gladwin  to  lead  forth  a  skirmishing  party 
under  cover  of  the  darkness.  I  am  resolved  to 
capture  this  redoubtable  Pontiac  who  has  stirred  up 
such  a  warfare  among  the  tribes  of  the  west." 

"But  if  you  fail?"  faltered  Marianne,  clasping  his 
arm  convulsively.  "  Remember  the  fate  of  Captain 
Campbell." 

Terrible  as  was  the  picture  conjured  up  by  her 
words,  Dalzell  did  not  flinch. 

"No  man  can  be  brave  who  considers  pain  the 
chief  evil  of  life,"  he  said,  "  and  the  greatest  service 
one  can  render  a  good  cause  is  to  die  for  it.  It  would 
be  ignoble  of  me  to  hold  back,  when  by  a  bold  move 
it  is  possible  to  raise  the  siege.  But  cheer  up,  my 
sweet,  I  shall  return  in  triumph  long  before  the  hour 
you  have  chosen  for  our  wedding.  Do  not  weep,  but 
make  ready  your  bridal  dress.  Once  more,  beloved, 
good-night." 

"  Helas !  my  perfect  happiness  was  indeed  but  a 
passing  bliss,"  sighed  Marianne,  as  she  withdrew  into 
the  shadowy  house.  "  How  often  grief  comes  hand  in 
hand  with  love  !  Dalzell  will  go  to  meet  the  redmen, 


298     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

while  I  must  fight  against  my  own  anxiety.  Ah,  do 
men  ever  understand  what  battles  we  poor  women 
wage  within  our  hearts ;  conflicts  whose  victories  are 
celebrated  by  no  gleaming  banners  or  triumphant 
songs  ?  But  what  trophy  do  I  ask  of  Heaven  but  my 
lover's  safe  return?  I  wish  he  had  begged  me  to 
wed  him  to-morrow." 

Thereat  she  reproached  herself,  as  though  the 
thought  of  hastening  her  nuptials  by  a  day  was  un- 
maidenly,  and,  having  gained  her  own  little  room, 
sank  upon  her  knees,  to  weep  and  pray  until  the 
gentle  comforter,  Sleep,  laid  a  quieting  hand  upon 
her  aching  head  in  the  refreshing  coolness  of  the 
early  morning. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SECOND 

A  BOLD   SALLY 

VALIANT  as  Dalzell  was,  no  doubt  his  spirit 
would  have  been  keyed  to  a  higher  pitch  of 
courage  had  he  known  that  at  this  supreme  moment, 
when  he  was  about  to  attempt  his  perilous  sortie, 
Marianne  would  gladly  have  linked  her  fate  with  his. 
But  how  was  he  to  surmise  that  the  girl  who  had  de- 
precated his  haste  when  he  besought  her  to  name 
Sunday  as  their  marriage  day,  would  now  have  mar- 
ried him  on  Saturday  had  he  asked  her  ? 

Unconscious  of  the  change  in  the  sentiments  of  his 
betrothed,  but  happy  in  the  thought  that  she  would 
soon  be  his  bride,  he  sauntered  slowly  up  the  street 
of  Ste.  Anne,  trolling  a  love-song,  — 

"  Pack,  clouds,  away,  and  welcome  day ; 
With  night  we  banish  sorrow  ; 
Sweet  air  blow  soft,  mount  lark  aloft, 
To  give  my  love  good-morrow  ! 
Wings  from  the  wind  to  please  her  mind, 
Notes  from  the  lark  I  '11  borrow ! 
Bird  prune  thy  wing,  nightingale  sing, 
To  give  my  love  good-morrow. 
To  give  my  love  good-morrow, 
Notes  from  them  both  I  '11  borrow. 

"  Wake  from  thy  nest,  robin  redbreast ; 
Sing  birds  in  every  furrow  ; 
And  from  each  bill  let  music  shrill, 
Give  my  fair  love  good-morrow, 


300     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

Blackbird  and  thrush,  in  every  bush,  — 
Stare,  linnet,  and  cock  sparrow,  — 
You  merry  elves  amongst  yourselves, 
Sing  my  fair  love  good-morrow. 
To  give  my  love  good-morrow, 
Sing  birds  in  every  furrow. 

"  O  fly,  make  haste.     See,  see  she  falls 
Into  a  pretty  slumber. 
Say  to  her,  'tis  her  lover  true, 
That  sendeth  love  by  you,  by  you, 
O  give  my  love  good-morrow." 

He  had  nearly  reached  the  house  of  Major  Glad- 
win,  where  he  lodged,  when  he  observed,  standing  in 
the  recessed  entrance  to  a  house,  a  man  who  seemed 
to  be  lying  in  wait  for  him. 

Dalzell's  hand  went  to  his  sword,  but  before  he 
had  time  to  draw,  the  watcher  stepped  out  into  the 
moonlight. 

"  Mr.  Sterling !  "  cried  the  officer,  recognizing  the 
Scotch  trader  whom  the  commandant  had  made  known 
to  him  in  the  afternoon. 

"  Yes,  Captain  Dalzell,"  replied  the  other.  "  I 
sought  you  at  headquarters.  I  ask  your  permission 
to  go  with  you  to-night." 

"But,"  objected  Dalzell,  and  had  he  been  an  Indian 
warrior,  he  might  have  been  loath  that  the  spirit  of 
his  Guardian  Shape  should  hear  how  differently  he 
now  spoke  of  his  expedition  from  when  he  had 
mentioned  it  to  Marianne,  —  "my  dear  sir,  this  is  a 
hazardous  venture." 

"  The  blood  of  a  soldier  runs  in  my  veins,  and  I 
can  no  more  keep  out  of  a  fight  than  could  Prince 
Charlie  himself,"  answered  Sterling.  "  Moreover, 
good  and  ill  luck  are  like  the  two  buckets  in  a  well ; 
why  should  not  fate  reel  up  the  better  one  for  you?" 


A   BOLD   SALLY  301 

"  Egad,  my  friend,  you  have  the  first  requisite 
of  a  good  fighter,  —  confidence  in  his  leader,"  ex- 
claimed Dalzell.  "Come  if  you  will;  I  am  a  gainer 
by  your  offer." 

The  next  day  was  spent  in  preparation  for  the 
attack,  and  not  until  evening  was  Dalzell  free  to  pay 
his  devoirs  to  Marianne. 

"  Poor  little  girl,  I  shall  be  hard  put  to  cheer  her," 
he  soliloquized  with  a  sigh,  as  he  took  his  way  to 
Madame  des  Ruisseaux.  Here,  however,  a  surprise 
awaited  him.  He  found  Mademoiselle  de  St.  Ours 
not  tearful,  but  radiant. 

Marianne  had  adorned  herself  to  appear  her  fairest 
in  his  eyes,  half  imagining  that  the  more  beautiful 
she  was,  the  more  like  he  would  be  to  come  back  to 
her.  Already  in  her  heart  the  sweet  unreasonable- 
ness of  the  maid  who  must  be  wooed  was  giving 
place  to  the  unselfishness  of  the  wife  who  has  been 
won.  For,  in  another  day,  was  she  not  to  be  the 
wife,  the  "keeper  of  the  soul"  of  Dalzell?  Timid, 
convent-bred,  and  wanting  in  the  courage  natural  to 
one  reared  on  the  borders  of  the  wilderness,  yet  this 
gentle  girl  did  not  altogether  lack  the  heroic  spirit 
that  made  the  madcap  Angelique  Cuillerier  so  auda- 
cious. Marianne  could  not,  like  Angelique,  have 
defied  the  rage  of  Pontiac ;  but  under  the  white  ash 
lives  the  burning  coal,  —  that  no  regretful  thought  of 
her  might  sadden  her  lover,  or  unnerve  his  arm  in 
battle,  she  could  keep  a  smiling  face  and  chatter 
blithely,  even  though  her  heart  was  oppressed  with 
fears. 

Dalzell  was  amazed,  delighted.  Was  this  vivacious 
beauty  his  demure  and  diffident  Marianne?  Until  a 
late  hour  she  held  him  captive  by  a  new  charm.  It 
was  only  when  he  came  to  take  leave  of  her  that 


302     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

she  broke  down,  and  cast  herself  sobbing  upon  his 
breast. 

"  Courage,  sweetheart ;  do  not  weep,  but  be  gay  and 
make  ready  for  our  wedding,"  ,he  whispered.  "  The 
darkest  hour  must  pass  at  last,  and  to-morrow  will  be 
our  marriage  day." 

"  Au  revoir ;  may  God  guard  you,"  she  faltered. 
And  then,  with  a  last  kiss,  he  was  gone. 

Some  time  after  midnight  the  gates  of  the  stockade 
were  thrown  open,  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  men 
passed  out  quietly,  and  filed  along  the  road ;  while 
the  two  ships,  each  with  a  small  cannon  on  its  bow, 
stole  silently  up  the  river.  Sterling,  who  because  of 
his  knowledge  of  the  locality,  was  chosen  by  Dalzell 
as  his  guide,  marched  beside  the  captain,  the  Irish 
soldier  O'Desmond  being  close  behind.  In  the  centre 
of  the  column  were  Major  Rogers  and  his  band  of 
rangers,  and  the  rear  was  brought  up  by  Mr.  Grant 
and  Mr.  Grey,  captains  of  the  green  regiment. 

The  night  was  still  and  hot.  On  the  right  of  the  way 
lay  the  river,  whose  mirror-like  surface  split  up  into 
gleaming  fragments  the  myriad  stars  that  looked  down 
upon  the  rushing  waters;  on  the  left  extended  the 
farms  and  orchards  of  the  cote,  the  bark-roofed,  white- 
washed houses  and  barns,  surrounded  by  high  pali- 
sades, whence  the  barking  of  watchdogs  challenged 
the  passing  soldiers.  The  habitants,  aroused  from 
sleep,  looked  from  the  windows  in  amazement;  and 
as  the  troops  approached  one  of  the  dwellings,  they 
saw  upon  the  roof  a  small  figure  silhouetted  against 
the  sky. 

"  Bejabbers,  it 's  a  red  naiger  !  "  exclaimed  O'Des- 
mond, rushing  forward  and  taking  aim  with  his  flint- 
lock. Sterling  knocked  up  the  barrel  of  the  musket. 


A   BOLD   SALLY  303 

"  That  is  but  the  young  son  of  a  farmer,  bent  upon 
catching  a  glimpse  of  our  bayonets  in  the  last  beams 
of  the  moon  as  it  sinks  behind  the  fort,"  he  said. 

"  Faith,  then  the  gossoon  was  like  to  have  learned 
more  of  our  weapons  than  he  bargained  for,"  returned 
the  soldier.  "  By  my  soul,  I  should  not  wonder  if  the 
red  dogs  were  watching  us  from  behind  every  one  of 
these  stables  and  cattle-sheds,  and  the  high  pickets 
which  make  a  fortified  place  of  every  farm." 

"  It  is  quite  possible,"  said  Sterling,  turning  to  the 
captain.  "  Let  me  beseech  you  again,  Mr.  Dalzell,  to 
abandon  this  mad  expedition." 

"  Mr.  Sterling,  I  have  not  come  into  the  wilderness 
to  remain  shut  up  within  the  stockade  of  Le  Detroit 
I  go  forward  with  my  men  though  there  be  a  scor- 
pion under  every  stone  of  the  way,  but  you  may 
turn  back  if  you  choose." 

"  Sir,  where  you  lead  I  follow,"  replied  the  Scot, 
nettled.  "  It  was  not  for  my  own  sake  I  spoke ;  I 
esteemed  it  a  duty  to  inform  you  that  the  Indians 
have  more  than  once  deceived  us  by  their  ambushes 
hereabouts." 

"  Well,  well,  sir,  it  may  be  I  was  too  hasty,"  ad- 
mitted the  captain,  appeased.  "  I  have  information 
that  the  savages  have  had  a  fine  carousal  over  a  sup- 
ply of  rum  which  formed  the  cargo  of  the  barge  they 
captured  a  day  or  two  since,  and  I  doubt  not  they  are 
now  deep  in  a  drunken  sleep." 

"  Humph,  I  like  not  a  silent  dog,"  muttered  Sterling 
between  his  teeth,  but  he  trudged  on  without  further 
expostulation. 

Just  beyond  the  farm  where  they  had  seen  the  boy 
lay  the  palisade  of  Antoine  Cuillerier.  When  the 
marching  men  came  abreast  of  the  house,  Sterling 
scanned  it  eagerly.  Was  that  a  woman  on  the  gal- 


304     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

lery,  or  was  it  only  a  shadow?  He  could  not  deter- 
mine, but  his  heart  beat  high  at  the  thought  that 
Angelique  might  be  watching  the  detachment,  and 
might  divine  that  he  was  among  the  brave  men  ad- 
vancing to  trap  the  king  of  the  forest  in  his  lair. 

Onward  they  marched,  toward  the  wild  hollow 
overgrown  with  sedges  through  which  Parant's  Creek 
flowed  into  the  river.  The  crickets  sang,  the  grasses 
of  the  prairie  were  stirred  by  insect  life,  and  swarms 
of  gnats  attacked  the  soldiers. 

"  Bedad,  Mr.  Sterling,"  said  O'Desmond,  as  the 
captain  of  militia  fell  back  to  exchange  a  word  with 
him,  —  "  bedad,  sir,  this  is  a  great  country." 

"  Yes?  "  replied  the  merchant  interrogatively. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  Irishman,  slapping  vigorously 
around  his  own  face  and  neck.  "  Shure,  I  "ve  often 
known  what  it  is  to  be  stung  by  tormenting  flitter- 
jacks  like  these,  but  never  —  no,"  he  repeated,  point- 
ing to  the  myriad  fireflies  upon  the  meadows,  "  no, 
never  before  have  I  seen  mosquitoes  carrying  lan- 
terns about  with  them  like  those  same.  It  beats 
all,  how  clever  iverything  is  in  this  new  world  !  " 

Now  the  road  crossed  the  run  by  a  narrow  bridge 
near  its  mouth.  Beyond,  the  land  lay  in  abrupt  ridges 
parallel  to  the  stream. 

"  Yonder,  Mr.  Dalzell,  are  the  rude  intrenchments 
made  by  Pontiac  to  protect  his  camp,  which  for- 
merly occupied  that  ground,"  said  Sterling,  stepping 
forward. 

The  moon  had  set  by  this  time,  and,  as  the  little 
company  advanced,  they  could  dimly  see  the  log 
house  of  Baptiste  Meloche  to  the  left  and  the  bridge 
before  them,  but  the  earthworks  of  the  abandoned 
encampment  were  as  a  black  wall  looming  up  to 
obstruct  their  progress. 


A   BOLD   SALLY  305 

"  By  the  powers,  he  that  laughs  on  Friday  may  cry 
on  Saturday,"  declared  O'Desmond  to  the  soldier 
who  kept  pace  with  him.  "  If  the  Evil  One  wanted 
an  ambush  he  'd  choose  a  spot  like  this.  Faith,  our 
captain  must  love  misfortune  well  when  he  fares  forth 
to  challenge  the  jade  after  this  fashion.  But  an 
easy  way  to  save  our  scalps  will  be  to  fight  for 
them;  though  mayhap,  me  friend,  when  the  savages 
see  your  hairless  crown  they  may  think  you  Ve  been 
scalped  already.  I  '11  lay  you  a  wager  now  that  you 
never  saw  a  red  naiger  with  a  bald  pate.  Ivery  man 
among  them  has  as  fine  a  growth  of  hair  as  if  he  cul- 
tivated it  to  adorn  the  belt  of  his  enemy.  We  do 
not  want  their  scalps,  but  we  '11  have  the  last  shot  at 
them,  whethern  no.  And  that  puts  me  in  mind  of  a 
man  I  used  to  know  at  home  in  Ireland. 

"  He  went  by  the  name  of  Brian,  and  the  neighbors 
were  wont  to  boast  that  no  one,  not  even  his  wife, 
could  get  the  last  word  in  an  argument  with  him ; 
not  so  much  that  he  would  never  listen  to  what 
anybody  else  was  saying,  as  because  of  his  glibness 
of  speech.  Well,  one  day,  a  stranger  in  the  town, 
having  heard  of  Brian's  powers,  chanced  to  meet 
him  on  the  road.  '  I'll  hold  ye  five  shillin's,  me 
boy,  that  I  '11  take  you  to  where  you  cannot  have  the 
last  word,'  says  he.  '  Done  !  '  says  Brian.  As  good 
as  his  word,  the  stranger  led  the  way  to  where  there 
was  a  grand  echo  between  two  wooded  hills. 

"  Nathless,  ere  long  Brian  came  back  to  the  town 
jingling  his  five  shillin's. 

"  '  Shure,  avick,  how  did  you  ever  get  the  better  o' 
the  echo?'  cried  one  of  his  friends,  while  a  crowd 
gathered  about  to  hear  his  answer. 

"  '  True  for  ye,  b'ys,'  says  Brian,  with  a  grin,  '  the 
thing  came  back  on  me  for  a  spell.  But  bedad,  I 


306     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

got   even   with  it  in   the  end,  for   I  shpoke  the  last 
wur-rd  undher  me  breath  ! '  " 

Thus  with  a  jest  and  a  laugh  the  brave  fellow  kept 
up  the  spirits  of  his  comrades. 

Anon,  for  the  first  time  since  the  setting  out  of 
the  expedition,  Dalzell  became  apprehensive  that  the 
Indians  might  be  prepared  for  his  attack.  As  the 
conviction  forced  itself  upon  him,  he  dashed  forward, 
followed  by  his  command  in  close  order. 

The  advance  guard  were  half-way  over  the  bridge 
when,  like  the  crack  of  doom,  an  Indian  war-whoop 
rent  the  stillness  of  the  night  and,  as  a  shaft  from  the 
devil's  bow,  a  volley  of  musketry  blazed  from  the 
side  of  the  ravine,  cutting  down  the  front  ranks  of 
the  skirmishers.  Another  column  pressed  forward 
unflinchingly,  to  meet  the  same  fate ;  but,  when  the 
main  body  of  the  troops  essayed  to  pass  the  gorge, 
they  grew  confused  and  began  to  recoil.  Above  the 
din  rose  the  resolute  voice  of  their  gallant  leader,  as 
he  rallied  his  men.  Another  volley  poured  upon 
them ;  again  they  hesitated,  but  with  a  shout  their 
captain  led  the  charge  across  the  bridge.  The  sav- 
ages had  fled,  yet  ever  and  again  their  war-cry 
frenzied  the  white  men,  and  the  fire  of  their  guns 
flashed  in  the  darkness. 

The  English  pushed  on ;  in  vain  Sterling  sought  to 
guide  them.  Having  left  the  road,  they  lost  their 
way;  every  wood-pile,  cattle-shed,  and  farmhouse 
was  an  ambush,  and  whenever  Dalzell  heard  the 
sound  of  musketry  he  dashed  onward,  hoping  to  drive 
the  savages  before  him.  It  soon  became  evident, 
however,  that  he  and  his  party  were  surrounded  by  a 
horde  of  Indians.  At  his  order  the  soldiers  retreated, 
marching  backward  and  continuing  to  fight  as  they 
went. 


A   BOLD    SALLY  307 

A  small  band  remained  behind  to  hold  off  the  red- 
men,  while  the  dead  and  wounded  of  the  troops  were 
placed  on  board  the  barges  which  had  approached 
the  shore,  under  cover  of  their  guns,  but  amid  a  sharp 
fire  from  the  Indians.  The  task  was  accomplished 
through  the  efforts  of  Sterling  and  the  redoutable 
O'Desmond. 

When  it  was  completed,  Captain  Dalzell  called 
to  the  Scotchman,  bidding  him  carry  a  message 
to  Captain  Grant,  and  the  merchant  volunteer  was 
off  like  a  shot.  It  was  still  dark,  but  a  lightening 
of  the  skies  above  the  forest  gave  promise  of  the 
dawn. 

Thinking  that  Grant  had  taken  possession  of  the 
house  of  Baptiste  Meloche  and  was  to  be  found  within, 
Sterling  made  his  way  toward  the  gallery.  As  he 
crossed  the  garden  he  fancied  that  he  discerned 
through  the  gloom  two  women  running  to  the 
kitchen  from  the  horse  mill,  whither  they  had  doubt- 
less fled  for  refuge  when  the  fight  was  at  its  height. 
Still  he  could  not  be  sure ;  the  shadowy  forms  might 
be  blanketed  Indians. 

With  a  hand  on  the  lock  of  his  musket  he  strode  in 
at  the  main  entrance  to  the  house  and  looked  into 
the  hearthroom.  It  was  empty;  but,  as  he  paused  on 
the  threshold,  he  heard  a  slight  grating  sound  as  of 
a  door  creaking  on  its  hinges,  and,  by  the  uncertain 
light  of  a  hanging  lamp  whose  floating  wick  flickered 
and  sputtered  in  the  bear's  oil,  saw  the  wooden 
shutter  of  a  window  slowly  open. 

The  next  moment  a  girl  sprang  into  the  room  from 
the  garden,  and,  not  observing  him,  turned  to  give  a 
helping  hand  to  some  one  without. 

Thus  assisted,  there  followed,  in  the  same  stealthy 
fashion,  a  young  woman,  carrying  in  her  arms  a  small 


3o8      THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

child,  whose  startled  eyes  and  white  face  showed  it  to 
be  half  dazed  with  fear. 

The  girl  was  Angelique  Cuillerier;  the  matron 
Madame  Meloche. 

It  was  the  child  who  first  discovered  that  there  was 
some  one  in  the  apartment  besides  themselves,  and, 
pointing  to  the  doorway,  cried  out  that  the  shadows 
moved.  Thereat,  drawing  a  knife  from  her  belt,  the 
girl  placed  herself  before  the  mother  and  the  little 
one. 

At  the  same  instant  Sterling  stepped  forward  under 
the  lamp. 

"  Angelique  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Merciful  Heaven, 
how  is  it  that  coming  here  with  a  message  to  the 
English  captain,  instead  of  meeting  Mr.  Grant,  I  find 
you  encompassed  by  dangers?" 

Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  recoiled,  dropped  the  dag- 
ger back  into  its  sheath,  and  put  a  hand  before  her 
eyes. 

"  Monsieur  Sterling,"  she  stammered.  Undaunted 
by  the  possible  foe  in  the  darkness,  as  was  St.  Mar- 
garet before  the  dragon,  now  at  the  reaction  she  fal- 
tered, but  quickly  recovered  herself  as  he  stretched 
out  his  arms  to  save  her  from  falling. 

"  Early  in  the  evening  Madame  Meloche  sent  word 
to  me  that  her  child  was  ill.  I  came  to  stay  the  night 
with  her,  and  help  in  the  care  of  the  little  creature," 
she  said.  "We  had  no  warning  that  the  Indians  and 
the  English  would  arouse  the  demon  of  the  strait  as 
they  have  done.  The  child  has  been  frighted  out 
of  her  ailment,  I  half  believe,  while  the  mother  and  I 
know  not  whether  we  shall  live  to  see  the  rising  of 
the  sun.  When  the  firing  began  we  took  refuge  in 
the  mill,  but  the  cannonading  of  the  gunboats  threat- 
ened to  make  short  work  of  its  destruction,  and  we 


A   BOLD   SALLY  309 

returned  in  haste  as  soon  as  the  house  appeared  to 
be  deserted." 

"  And  Pontiac  drove  Madame  Meloche  and  her 
guest  defenceless  out  into  the  night?"  cried  Sterling, 
gritting  his  teeth. 

"  It  all  came  about  like  a  whirlwind,"  interposed 
the  young  dame.  "  An  old  chief  was  sitting  in  the 
hearthroom,  smoking  with  my  husband,  when  the 
troops  came  up.  At  the  sound  of  the  firing,  he  dis- 
charged his  musket  from  the  window.  They  thought 
Baptiste  had  attacked  them,  and  they  called  to  him 
with  rage,  but  it  was  the  Indian." 

"  When  the  soldiers  fell  back  the  savages  broke 
into  the  enclosure  through  the  postern,  and  swarmed 
into  the  house.  Had  we  been  here  then,  no  doubt 
we  would  have  been  scalped,"  continued  Angelique. 
"Juste  ciel,  can  women  remain  sane  in  the  midst  of 
such  peril  to  themselves,  and  to  the  men  dear  to 
them?  " 

Even  at  this  moment,  with  the  sounds  of  the  con- 
flict outside  ringing  in  his  ears,  the  reports  of  mus- 
ketry, the  shouts  of  the  soldiers,  the  moans  of  the 
dying,  Sterling's  face  brightened  at  the  glance  she 
unconsciously  gave  him  as  she  spoke. 

With  a  thrill  of  joy  at  his  heart,  he  bent  his  lips 
to  her  hand. 

"  You  are  safe  here  now,  since  the  savages  will 
either  follow  our  people  or  retire  to  the  woods  at 
daylight,  as  is  their  custom,"  he  assured  her.  "  And 
as  for  the  men  who  fight,  —  eh  bien,  mademoiselle, 
a  soldier's  best  shield  is  the  prayer  of  the  woman  he 
loves." 

Angelique  smiled,  yet  her  eyes  glistened  with  tears. 

"  You  say  you  are  bound  upon  a  message,  monsieur. 
Do  not  delay,  I  beg  of  you,"  she  conjured  abruptly. 


3io    THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

Loath  to  leave  her  with  only  the  protection  the 
house  afforded,  Sterling  yet  knew  that  in  delaying 
he  would  be  faithless  to  his  duty.  Nevertheless,  he 
hesitated. 

"  Go,  go,"  entreated  the  girl.  "  May  the  warrior 
archangel  shield  you  from  harm  —  you  and  Mr. 
Dalzell,  for  Marianne's  sake.  Oh,  I  will  pray  for 
all  the  poor  soldiers.  How  horrible  is  war !  " 

Sterling  was  saved  from  further  indecision  by  the 
return  of  Baptiste,  who  had  been  out  seeking  his 
wife  and  child.  Angelique  would  be  safer  with 
these  habitants  than  had  the  Scotchman  himself  been 
free  to  remain  to  protect  her.  Speeding  across  the 
fields,  he  encountered  a  company  of  the  "  green  regi- 
ment "  as  they  were  returning  through  the  Meloche 
orchard,  after  having  driven  one  band  of  savages  into 
the  forest.  Having  delivered  his  message  to  Captain 
Grant,  he  made  his  way  again  to  Dalzell,  who  had 
just  shouted  to  his  men  to  wheel  about  and  retreat 
in  the  regular  manner.  By  this  order  Grant  was 
now  in  the  van,  and  Dalzell  in  the  rear,  with  the 
enemy  following  at  a  distance,  and  keeping  up  a 
desultory  firing,  while  now  and  again  his  company 
faced  around  and  gave  them  a  return  volley. 

As  they  approached  a  place  where  a  cellar  had 
been  newly  dug,  the  hollow  belched  forth  flame,  and 
several  men  fell  lifeless,  to  be  promptly  scalped  by 
their  barbaric  pursuers.  Panic  stricken,  the  remain- 
der of  the  soldiers  thronged  down  the  road,  but 
their  leader  continued  to  fight,  and  in  the  first  gray 
light  of  dawn  the  enemy  marked  him  by  his  extraor- 
dinary bravery.  Finding  that  Dalzell  was  wounded, 
Sterling,  O'Desmond,  and  two  or  three  others  would 
have  closed  in  about  him,  but  he  waved  them  off, 
and  continued  to  encourage  his  men,  reproaching 


A   BOLD   SALLY  311 

some,  and  with  the  flat  of  his  sword  beating  others 
back  to  the  conflict. 

By  this,  day  had  come,  but  a  fog  rising  from  the 
river  made  the  prairie  like  another  sea,  and  screened 
the  pursuing  Indians,  so  that  the  clouds  seemed  to 
rain  bullets  and  the  deadly  lightnings  of  a  wither- 
ing fire.  The  yells  of  the  savages  were  to  the  be- 
wildered men  like  the  voices  of  the  demon  followers 
of  the  Red  Dwarf,  the  evil  manitou  of  the  strait. 

Sterling  and  O'Desmond  still  kept  near  Dalzell, 
who  in  his  intrepidity  lingered  behind,  still  shooting 
through  the  mist.  All  at  once,  from  its  shelter  leaped 
out  three  Indians,  who  no  doubt  thought  to  capture 
him  and  his  guard  before  they  could  fight  their  way 
back  to  the  main  body  of  the  troops. 

In  a  flash  Sterling  recognized  one  as  Panigwun; 
another  was  Wasson,  the  Sauteur;  the  third  he  had 
never  before  seen.  O'Desmond  fired.  Panigwun, 
with  a  howl  like  the  dying  cry  of  a  wolf,  leaped 
high  in  the  air  and  pitched  forward  on  his  face. 
Sterling  took  aim  at  the  Saginaw  warrior  with  a 
wild  hope  that  he  might  avenge  the  murder  of  Cap- 
tain Campbell ;  Wasson  also  fell,  and  Dalzell  brought 
down  the  third  savage. 

Believing  all  dead,  the  three  white  men  plunged 
down  the  road.  In  the  fog  they  became  separated. 
Five  minutes  passed ;  then  Sterling  heard  a  shout 
from  Dalzell.  He  dashed  forward  in  the  direction 
whence  the  sound  had  proceeded.  It  was  followed 
by  an  ominous  silence ;  he  did  not  know  which  way 
to  turn. 

Presently,  however,  another  demoniacal  war-whoop 
smote  upon  his  ears,  and  after  continuing  on  for  per- 
haps five  minutes  more  he  stumbled  over  the  pros- 
trate form  of  a  soldier. 


3i2     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

Bending  over  the  body,  he  discovered  with  horror 
that  it  was  Dalzell.  Beside  the  captain  lay  O'Des- 
mond,  also  dead,  shot  through  the  forehead. 

With  a  cry  of  rage  and  grief,  Sterling  fired  his 
musket  blindly  through  the  fog.  Scarcely  had  the 
report  died  away  when  a  low  groan  almost  at  his 
feet  told  him  that  he  was  not  alone.  Searching  a 
few  feet  farther  along  he  came  upon  a  sergeant  of 
the  "  green  regiment,"  moaning  in  mortal  pain. 

"  The  captain  found  me.  He  tried  to  drag  me 
away  from  the  savages,"  gasped  the  poor  fellow,  with 
momentarily  increasing  difficulty.  "  The  Irish  sol- 
dier —  strove  —  to  —  aid  —  him.  Two  warriors  came. 
They  fought.  The  Irishman  thrust  himself  before 
the  captain  —  crying  out  something  about  '  red  nai- 
gers  '  —  and  that  —  some  —  woman's  heart  would  be 
broken  if  he  did  not  return.  The  savages  fled  — 
the  others,  wounded  —  died  —  as  —  they  —  fell." 

Dalzell  had  been  slain  in  the  act  of  helping  one 
of  his  men;  and  the  dauntless  O'Desmond,  with  a 
jest  on  his  lips,  and  an  unselfish  thought  to  spare  a 
woman's  tears,  had  died  for  a  stranger,  and  for  the 
glory  of  a  flag  that  for  more  than  two  centuries  had 
been  to  his  country  a  symbol  of  oppression. 

Such  was  the  story  painfully  and  disconnectedly 
told  by  the  wounded  soldier.  As  he  concluded,  he 
half  raised  himself,  and  gazed  wild-eyed  at  the  mer- 
chant. But  the  effort  exhausted  the  remnant  of  his 
strength.  As  he  sank  back,  Sterling  caught  him, 
held  a  water-bottle  to  his  lips,  and  swore  not  to  leave 
him  during  the  few  moments  he  had  yet  to  live. 

The  din  of  the  fight  was  around  the  two  men ;  the 
Scotchman  held  his  musket  ready,  guarding  the  dying. 

After  a  while  the  form  of  the  sergeant  grew  heavy 
and  rigid.  Then  Sterling  knew  that  he  had  kept  his 


A    BOLD   SALLY  313 

promise.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  turning  to  where 
Dalzell  had  fallen,  dragged  the  body  of  the  gallant 
officer  behind  a  neighboring  bush,  hoping  that  the 
foliage  and  the  mist  might  screen  it  from  the  savages. 
He  would  fain  have  paid  the  same  respect  to  the 
intrepid  O'Desmond,  but  the  shouts  of  the  troops  for 
succor  warned  him  of  the  duty  he  owed  to  the  liv- 
ing. Hastening  on,  he  came  upon  a  few  of  Rogers' 
rangers,  who  were  storming  a  house,  from  every  win- 
dow of  which  the  Ottawas  poured  a  shower  of  bullets. 

"  Ho,  there,  Sterling  !  Lend  me  your  aid  to  burst  in 
this  door,"  cried  Rogers,  mounting  the  steps  of  the 
gallery  in  his  impatience  to  get  at  the  aborigines, 
whose  fire  his  own  men  returned  without  ceasing. 

Sterling,  with  some  three  or  four  others,  responded 
with  enthusiasm  to  his  call,  and  the  heavy  wooden 
bar  that  fastened  the  door  gave  way  with  their  weight. 
The  merchant  had  plucked  Dalzell's  sword  from  its 
scabbard,  resolved  that  it  should  yet  do  good  service 
that  day.  Waving  it,  he  pressed  into  the  house 
after  Rogers,  a  reinforcement  of  rangers  following. 

Some  of  the  redmen  dropped  before  them;  the 
others,  scattering  like  rats,  leaped  from  the  windows 
and  took  to  the  trees,  whence  they  continued  their 
fire.  Captain  Grey  was  ordered  to  dislodge  a  third 
band  from  behind  a  palisade  near  by.  He  charged 
with  his  men,  but  sank  to  the  ground  riddled  with 
bullets ;  and,  as  the  company  was  forced  back,  a  chief 
hideous  in  war-paint  sprang  upon  the  bleeding  body 
and  cut  out  the  heart. 

Having  driven  the  Indians  from  this  stronghold, 
Rogers  proceeded  to  conduct  the  retreat  in  a  mas- 
terly manner,  fighting,  so  said  those  of  his  followers 
who  survived,  "  as  though  the  fiends  themselves  were 
his  opponents." 


314     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

To  keep  the  Indians  at  bay,  he  entered  the  strong 
house  of  Jacques  Campeau,  but  was  soon  besieged 
there.  Some  of  the  regulars  who  had  broken  in 
after  him  seized  upon  a  keg  of  rum  and  drank  gener- 
ously of  the  liquor;  others  piled  furniture  and  bales 
of  furs  against  the  windows  and  doors  to  serve  as  a 
barricade,  and  at  intervals,  thrusting  out  their  flint- 
locks, fired  upon  the  yelling  foes.  Again  a  bullet 
whizzed  through  an  opening,  wounding  a  man,  or 
glancing  off  from  some  object. 

Jacques  stood  on  the  hatch  of  the  cellar  to  keep 
skulking  soldiers  from  seeking  to  hide  themselves 
below,  since  there  the  women  had  taken  refuge.  A 
ball  grazed  his  head  and  struck  the  wall  beyond  him. 

The  shrieks  of  the  women,  the  noise  without,  the 
shouts  and  oaths  of  the  soldiers,  made  the  place  seem 
a  pandemonium. 

The  tactics  of  Rogers  were,  however,  successful. 
The  gunboats,  which  had  gone  down  to  the  water 
gate  with  the  dead  and  wounded,  now  returned  to  a 
point  on  the  river  opposite  to  Campeau's  house,  and 
the  fire  of  their  swivels  quickly  drove  the  besiegers 
back  to  the  woods.  Thus  released,  Rogers  and  his 
rangers  came  out  and  joined  Grant's  company.  A 
line  of  communication  with  the  fort  was  soon  estab- 
lished, and  anon  the  daring  major,  upon  whom  had 
devolved  the  chief  command,  gained  the  stockade 
with  ninety  men ;  all  that  were  left  of  the  skirmishing 
party  that  had  set  out  so  confidently  a  few  hours 
earlier. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-THIRD 

GIVE  LOVE  GOOD-MORROW 

FEAR  is  a  great  inventor,  and  one  who  fears  to 
suffer,  suffers  from  fear.  So  it  was  with  Mari- 
anne de  St.  Ours.  As  Schiller's  young  diver  clutched 
at  the  golden  cup  he  had  risked  his  life  to  win,  so 
this  gentle  demoiselle  held  fast  to  her  happiness  with 
the  desperation  of  a  great  dread  that  it  would  pres- 
ently be  wrested  from  her  in  the  maelstrom  of  fate. 
Yet,  beyond  the  heaviness  of  heart  which  foreboded 
grief,  she  gave  no  thought  to  herself,  but  suffered 
agonies  of  fear  for  the  safety  of  Dalzell.  Screened 
by  the  deerskin  curtain  of  the  window,  she  had 
watched  the  command  march  down  the  street  of  Ste. 
Anne  in  the  moonlight;  had  plainly  distinguished 
her  lover,  and  noted  with  a  thrill  of  joy  that,  as  he 
passed  the  house,  he  turned  his  head  and  looked  at 
the  dormer  where  she  knelt,  as  though  he  felt  her 
presence ;  even  as  but  yesterday  her  eyes  had  drawn 
his  gaze  to  herself  among  the  throng  at  the  water 
gate. 

So  quietly  had  the  troops  gone  forth  that  the 
majority  of  the  townspeople,  sleeping  heavily  in  their 
beds,  were  ignorant  of  the  sally.  Had  the  secret 
been  kept  from  the  French,  save  the  few  trusted 
men  who,  disowned  by  their  own  king,  cast  in  their 
lot  with  the  British,  all  might  have  been  well.  But, 
how  many  individuals  there  are  whose  tongues  would 
fain  outrun  their  feet  with  news  !  Earlier  in  the  even- 


3r6     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

ing,  at  the  bark-roofed  cabin  which  served  as  a 
tavern,  a  soldier  in  his  cups  let  fall  a  word  of  the 
intended  sortie  to  a  coureur  de  bois  with  a  lean, 
solemn  visage,  who,  because  he  brought  in  game  for 
food,  was  still  permitted  to  go  in  and  out  of  the 
stockade,  —  an  interpreter  who,  although  trusted  by 
the  English,  had  arisen  at  the  council  of  the  Ottawa 
and  sworn  to  join  with  him.  An  hour  later,  a  drunk- 
ard lay  under  the  table  of  the  cabaret,  his  chance  of 
glory  lost,  his  miserable  life  saved  for  that  day.  At 
the  same  time  the  runner  of  the  woods,  having  shown 
his  pass  at  the  gate  and  given  some  plausible  excuse 
for  going  out,  had  sped  away  to  warn  Pontiac. 

Of  this  Marianne  was,  of  course,  ignorant ;  yet  she 
could  not  go  to  rest,  but,  still  kneeling  at  the  window, 
prayed  and  wept. 

"This  will  never  do,"  she  soliloquized,  rising  to  her 
feet  at  last.  "  I  will  offer  my  every  heart-beat  as  a 
prayer  to  God  for  my  hero,  but  when  Dalzell  returns 
he  must  not  find  his  bride  with  eyes  dimmed  by 
weeping." 

Thereupon  she  lighted  a  candle,  and,  with  it  still  in 
her  hand,  crossed  the  room,  and  took  from  her  mar- 
riage chest  the  wedding  gown  that  the  merchant, 
James  Sterling,  had  at  her  request  ordered  sent  out  to 
her  from  London ;  a  gown  of  white  satin,  her  one  ex- 
travagance, indulged  in  because  she  was  resolved  in  her 
foolish  young  heart  to  be  as  fair  a  bride  as  any  Eng- 
lish girl  whom  Dalzell  might  have  chosen.  As  though, 
forsooth,  her  lover  would  not  have  sworn  she  was  the 
loveliest  woman  in  the  world  had  she  met  him  at  the 
altar  in  a  frock  of  homespun  cotton  cloth  ! 

The  light  of  the  candle  flitted  over  the  shimmering 
fabric  with  strange  antics.  "  For  all  the  world  like  an 
old  woman  dancing  at  a  f£te,"  Marianne  thought,  and 


GIVE   LOVE   GOOD-MORROW        317 

laughed  low  at  the  fancy,  as  she  thrust  the  candle  in  a 
knothole  of  the  chimney-shelf  above  her  head. 

"  Of  a  truth,  Pontiac  was  a  most  courteous  savage 
to  deliver  over  the  box  to  me,"  she  went  on,  com- 
muning with  herself.  "  When  Dalzell  brings  him 
back  a  prisoner,  I  will  remind  the  commandant  of 
this  circumstance,  and  gain  for  the  Ottawa  chief  some 
favor  to  requite  it.  Major  Gladwin  will  deny  no  pe- 
tition offered  by  the  bride  of  the  hero  of  Le  Detroit." 

Having  spread  the  gown  upon  the  settle,  she  next 
took  from  the  chest  a  square  of  the  lace  of  Alenc.cn, 
an  heirloom  brought  from  France  to  grace  the  bridal 
beauty  of  the  daughters  of  a  Canadian  seigneur,  in 
the  days  when  Comte  Frontenac  ruled  at  Quebec 
with  well-nigh  as  great  dignity  as  the  Sun  King  at 
Versailles. 

The  heads  of  many  happy  brides  had  been  veiled 
by  this  fleecy  cobweb.  Marianne  wondered  if  any 
of  them  had  thought  of  the  lace  maker,  whose  eyes 
mayhap  had  grown  dim  over  the  intricate  pattern. 

The  girl  shuddered.  But  for  her  family  pride,  she 
would  have  preferred  a  veil  as  new  as  the  gown ;  one 
into  which  no  wretchedness  was  woven,  one  that  had 
not  been  worn  by  dead  and  gone  brides. 

"  But  no,  I  will  not  harbor  such  thoughts,"  she  said 
to  herself.  "  Perchance  the  maker  of  this  lace  was  a 
maiden  who  wove  into  it  her  own  love-dream,  and 
did  not  grow  blind,  but  gained  by  her  work  a  purse 
of  gold  for  her  marriage  dot. 

"  I  will  not  think  of  withered  bridal  wreaths ;  God 
grant  I  may  be  as  good  a  wife  as  were  the  women 
who  wore  this  veil  that  I  shall  don  to-day.  It  is  a 
favor  of  Heaven  to  be  well-born,  yet  of  how  much 
greater  worth  than  a  patent  of  nobility  is  a  heritage 
of  virtue  !  " 


3i8     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

Now,  upon  her  little  dressing-table  she  laid  the 
scented  gloves  that  had  come  with  the  gown ;  her 
mother's  prayer-book ;  the  knot  of  white  ribbon  which 
she  would  send  with  a  spray  of  white  clematis  to  her 
bridegroom  to  pin  upon  the  breast  of  his  scarlet 
coat. 

Already  the  darkness  was  less  dense;  the  dawn 
would  soon  come,  the  glad  sun  would  rise,  and  it 
would  be  her  wedding  day. 

Sinking  upon  the  settle  beside  her  bridal  finery, 
Marianne  fell  a-dreaming. 

Before  many  minutes,  however,  distant  sounds 
broke  in  upon  her  maiden  reverie.  Hastening  to  the 
window  once  more,  she  leaned  out  over  the  sill,  strain- 
ing her  eyes  in  vain,  since  she  could  not  see  the  "  c6te 
du  nord-est "  whence  came  the  noise  of  the  conflict. 

"Jesu,  Marie,  save  him!  "  she  cried,  clasping  her 
hands.  "  Save  him  !  Save  him  !  " 

For  half  an  hour,  an  hour,  two  hours,  the  sounds 
of  the  battle  continued.  All  the  French  within  the 
stockade  had  long  before  this  flocked  out  of  doors. 
The  sentries  patrolled  the  streets,  ordering  the  men 
to  the  ramparts,  the  women  and  children  back  into 
the  houses.  The  guards  at  the  gate  were  doubled. 

Less  frequent  grew  the  firing;  the  war-whoops  of 
the  Indians  died  away  and,  now  and  again,  a  ringing 
shout  announced  some  advantage  won  by  the  English. 

Anon,  there  was  silence  upon  the  prairie. 

Major  Gladwin  and  his  officers,  who  watched  the 
plain  from  the  forest  bastion,  announced  that  the 
troops  were  making  their  way  back  to  the  fort  in 
good  order,  and  the  intelligence  was  cried  through 
the  town.  Then  came  the  barges  down  the  river, 
with  their  woeful  freight.  Marianne  had  withdrawn 
behind  her  screen  of  deerskin,  from  which  position 


GIVE   LOVE   GOOD-MORROW        319 

she  continued  to  look  out  upon  the  thoroughfare  and 
beyond  to  the  river.  When,  from  the  vociferations 
of  the  passers-by,  she  learned  what  manner  of  passen- 
gers the  gunboat  had  brought,  her  heart  seemed  to 
stand  still  with  terror  and  apprehension. 

"  Come  away  from  the  window,  cherie,"  urged  Ma- 
dame des  Ruisseaux,  who  had  hastened  to  her  room 
to  bear  her  company.  "  Come  below,  and  rest  on 
the  settle  in  the  hearthroom.  Ill  news  travels  on 
horseback;  if  there  were  sorrowful  tidings  for  you, 
they  would  be  cried  aloud  before  now.  If  you  do  not 
rest,  your  captain  will  not  be  able  to  boast  of  the 
beauty  of  his  lady." 

But  Marianne  shrank  from  the  kind  hand. 

"  Not  yet,  aunt,"  she  cried,  clinging  to  the  frame 
of  the  casement.  "  Not  until  I  know  the  truth  !  " 

As  she  again  scanned  the  street,  her  anxious  glance 
fell  upon  Robishe  Navarre,  hurrying  to  the  water  gate. 

"  Robishe  !    Robishe  !  "  she  called. 

The  young  man  stopped  short.  Himself  a  lover 
and  expectant  bridegroom,  he  felt  his  sympathy  at 
once  aroused  by  the  sight  of  the  white  face  of  the 
demoiselle.  Was  ever  the  face  of  a  willing  bride  so 
sad  upon  her  wedding  day? 

"  Go  yonder,  bring  me  word,"  she  gasped,  pointing 
to  the  bateaux. 

Navarre  understood. 

"  Be  of  good  courage,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  ;  "  I 
will  be  back  with  all  speed." 

And  in  a  trice  he  did  return  to  call  up  to  her  re- 
assuringly. 

"  Mademoiselle,  no  one  whom  you  love  has  come 
home  by  the  river." 

"  Heaven  forgive  me  for  my  selfishness  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, fully  conscious  how  heavy  had  been  her 


320     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

heart  only  now  when  it  grew  light  once  more.  She 
would  have  run  out  to  succor  the  wounded  who  were 
being  borne  to  the  hospital,  but  her  aunt  forbade. 

"  Such  doleful  sights  are  not  for  a  demoiselle  upon 
her  wedding  morning,"  protested  Madame  des  Ruis- 
seaux.  "  I  will  go,  but  you  must  betake  yourself  to 
rest;  or  else  call  in  Agathe,  and  let  her  begin  to 
coif  you.  By  Ste.  Anne,  she  may  as  well  bring  my 
rouge-pot,  too." 

"No,  no,"  remonstrated  the  girl;  "  Dalzell  shall 
have  no  painted  bride." 

"  Eh  bien,  if  you  look  so  like  a  ghost,  you  shall  not 
be  married  to-day  at  all." 

Forthwith  kissing  her  niece,  and  satisfied  that  she 
had  made  use  of  the  strongest  argument  to  compel 
Marianne  to  take  some  repose,  the  energetic  lady 
set  out  to  minister  to  the  suffering  soldiers,  with 
that  womanly  devotedness  which  characterized  the 
"  grandes  dames  "  of  the  age. 

But  it  is  one  thing  to  say  "  Hush,  my  dear,  and 
slumber,"  and  quite  another  to  dispose  oneself  to 
tranquillity. 

"Every  moment  is  bringing  the  returning  troops 
nearer  to  the  fort,"  said  Marianne  to  herself  with 
happy  exultation.  "  Dalzell  will  soon  be  here.  Shall 
I  begin  to  dress  for  my  bridal  as  my  aunt  advised? 
No,  no,  not  yet." 

For  a  few  minutes  she  stood  looking  out  at  the 
river.  The  water  was  like  a  sheet  of  burnished  silver, 
the  balmy  air  was  vibrant  with  the  song  of  birds,  and 
presently  from  the  square  bark-roofed  towers  of  Ste. 
Anne's  and  the  Huron  Mission  rang  the  sweet  voices 
of  the  bells,  calling  the  worshippers  to  the  early  Mass 
of  Sunday  morning. 

Marianne   aroused   herself;    she   would  go  to  the 


GIVE   LOVE    GOOD-MORROW       321 

service  now  while  the  morning  was  young,  instead  of 
waiting  for  "  le  grand  Messe,"  later. 

Her  simple  toilet  was  soon  made.  Bending  over 
her  bridal  gown,  she  laid  her  cheek  tenderly  against 
its  soft  folds,  pressed  a  kiss  upon  the  bit  of  ribbon 
she  had  knotted  for  her  bridegroom,  then,  stealing 
down  the  rough  stairway,  she  left  the  house  and 
walked  quickly  to  the  church. 

How  like  it  all  was  to  that  other  occasion  but  two 
days  since  when,  here,  as  it  were  at  the  feet  of  the 
Mother  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  she  had  received  news 
of  the  coming  of  her  lover! 

Now,  too,  before  the  service  was  over  there  was 
a  commotion  without;  half  of  the  congregation  ran 
into  the  street,  and  men  called  to  one  another  that 
the  skirmishing  party  had  reached  the  gates  of  the 
town. 

Still  Marianne  was  of  those  who  lingered  in  the 
sacred  edifice.  As  the  priest  turned  to  give  the  last 
blessing,  the  throng  outside  set  up  a  great  shout. 

"  They  come  !     They  come  !  " 

Trembling  with  excitement,  the  girl  started  to  her 
feet  and  rushed  to  the  door  just  as  the  haggard 
remnant  of  Dalzell's  brave  command  came  opposite 
to  the  church. 

Wild-eyed  she  stood  upon  the  step  as  they  went 
by.  There  were  Major  Rogers  and  his  rangers ; 
there  were  Captain  Grant,  Sterling,  and  a  band  of 
smoke-begrimed,  weary,  valiant  men.  But  where  was 
the  leader  who  had  so  confidently  led  them  forth  a 
few  hours  before? 

Scarcely  noting  the  glances  of  commiseration  cast 
upon  her  by  the  soldiers,  yet  unconsciously  impressed 
by  them,  she  waited  in  silence  until  the  troops  had 
passed.  Then  she  turned  back  into  the  church. 


322     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

There  was  a  sound  as  of  a  bird  helplessly  beating  its 
wings  against  fate,  a  low  moan  as  of  a  dove  wounded 
unto  death;  then  a  heart-broken  girl  sped  up  the 
aisle,  and  cast  herself  before  the  altar  with  a  cry  of 
anguish. 

"  Waileth  a  woman, '  Oh,  my  God  ! ' 

Her  hopes  are  withered,  her  love  is  crushed ; 
A  starless  and  pitiless  night  has  rushed 
On  the  light  of  her  life." 

"  Why  is  it  that  the  prayer  of  the  pure  of  heart 
sometimes  remains  unanswered,  that  upon  the  knight 
without  reproach  the  sword  of  the  angel  falls?" 
half  rebelliously  demanded  the  Dame  des  Ruisseaux 
of  the  cure,  Monsieur  de  Bocquet,  later  in  the  day. 

"  My  dear  madame,"  rejoined  the  good  man  with 
gentleness,  "it  is  because  earth  is  earth,  and  not 
heaven ;  because  the  soul  is  formed  for  greater  bliss 
than  the  joys  of  time ;  and  the  life  we  know  is  but 
the  cloud-darkened  dawn  of  existence." 

After  that  one  hopeless  cry,  Marianne  de  St.  Ours, 
who  but  the  day  before  yesterday  had  fainted  with 
joy  at  sight  of  her  lover,  went  home  to  dress  herself 
in  her  bridal  robes;  to  smile  and  sing;  to  reproach 
her  friends  because  they  did  not  offer  her  their 
congratulations. 

"  Captain  Dalzell  bade  me  array  myself  for  our 
marriage ;  he  will  soon  be  here.  Make  haste  to  sum- 
mon the  wedding  guests,"  she  said,  while  all  who  saw 
and  heard  her  shuddered  as  they  asked  of  one  an- 
other, "Will  it  always  be  so?  Has  'le  bon  Dieu '  taken 
her  reason  for  good  and  all,  as  well  as  her  lover?" 

Weeks  passed.  Yet  the  mad  bride  of  Le  Detroit 
still  robed  herself  each  day  for  her  marriage,  and 
knotted  ribbons  into  favors  for  her  bridegroom.  She 


GIVE   LOVE    GOOD-MORROW        323 

never  knew  that  Pontiac,  who  but  a  few  weeks  before 
with  such  marvellous  consideration  had  delivered 
over  her  wedding  chest,  now  sent  to  Major  Gladwin 
the  head  of  the  captain  upon  a  picket. 

Content  in  the  hope  of  her  bridegroom's  coming, 
she  sang  her  pretty  songs  and  dreamed  of  happiness. 

Sterling  told  her  of  Dalzell's  end,  but  she  only 
smiled  at  him,  and  kissed  the  clematis  she  had 
gathered  for  her  lover,  nor  noticed  that,  instead  of 
blossoms,  the  vine  whence  she  had  plucked  it  already 
began  to  show  only  misty  blooms,  the  ghosts  of  its 
small,  bride-flowers. 

September  came,  the  Moon  of  the  Maize,  but 
there  was  little  change  in  Marianne  de  St.  Ours. 
After  the  battle  of  Parant's  Creek,  called  by  the 
English  the  Bloody  Run,  and  by  the  French  the 
Creek  of  the  Crimson  Waters,  Pontiac,  elated  by  his 
victory,  sent  runners  through  the  woods,  and  mes- 
sengers in  swift  canoes  upon  the  waters,  to  bear  tid- 
ings of  his  victory  to  all  the  tribes  of  the  vicinity 
who  were  not  already  gathered  about  his  camp. 

The  scarcity  of  provisions  in  the  fort  rendered  it 
expedient  to  admit  the  women  of  the  good  band  of 
Hurons  when  they  came  to  the  gate  to  sell  venison, 
corn,  barberries,  and  the  wild  grapes  of  the  prairie. 
Thus  it  was  that  one  afternoon  as  pretty,  gentle  Ma- 
rianne sat  by  the  window  in  Madame  des  Ruisseaux's 
parlor,  her  brown  hair  veiled  by  the  bridal  lace  of 
Alengon,  her  slight  form  robed  in  the  shimmering 
satin  gown,  she  suddenly  beheld,  standing  beside  the 
chimney-piece  like  a  statue  in  bronze,  a  lithe  Indian 
girl,  who  looked  down  on  her  with  keen,  searching 
eyes. 

"  Are  you  the  Pani  woman  who  brings  me  the 
sweet  Catawba  grapes  from  beyond  La  Belle  Fon- 


324     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

taine?"  inquired  Marianne,  smoothing  the  folds  of 
her  gown,  and  returning  the  gaze  of  her  visitor  with 
a  child-like  smile. 

"  I  am  Nedawniss,  the  daughter  of  Makatepelicite. 
I  do  not  barter  with  either  the  French  or  the  Eng- 
lish," replied  the  girl  haughtily. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Marianne,  going  back  to  the  stroking 
of  her  dress. 

Since  the  day  when  she  had  smilingly  looked  into 
the  eyes  of  Sterling  when  he  spoke  of  her  lover's 
fate,  the  words  "  Indian  "  and  "  English  "  had  never 
been  mentioned  before  her.  Now,  as  they  fell  upon 
her  ears,  a  shadow  of  doubt  and  perplexity  flitted 
across  her  usually  serene  face. 

Meanwhile,  Nedawniss,  who  would  have  been 
proud  and  fearless  before  Pontiac,  in  face  of  the 
armies  of  England,  or  the  court  of  Versailles,  drew 
back  in  awe  of  the  hapless  young  bride-elect. 

The  Indian  has  a  dread  of  one  on  whom  the 
Master  of  Life  has  set  the  seal  of  madness.  But 
was  the  beautiful  pale-faced  lady  really  mad? 

As  for  Marianne,  —  the  very  sight  of  the  dusky 
girl,  with  her  vermilion-tinted  cheeks  and  blanket 
dress,  her  wampum  necklace  and  armlets  of  silver, 
stirred  a  strange  emotion  in  the  heart  of  the  mad 
bride  of  Le  Detroit,  as  the  string  of  a  lute  long 
relaxed  is  aroused  to  life  by  the  hand  that  keys  it 
to  its  wonted  pitch. 

For  a  second  the  two  girls  remained  steadfastly  re- 
garding each  other.  Then  Nedawniss  said,  — 

"  I  came  to  tell  the  demoiselle  something,  but 
perhaps  she  does  not  care  to  hear  it,  since  she  can 
smile  and  sing;  for  when  I  entered  she  was  singing. 
If  she  cared  she  would  not  deck  herself  with  jewels ; 
being  a  '  dame  blanche,'  she  would  weep  all  day." 


GIVE   LOVE    GOOD-MORROW        325 

Marianne  glanced  furtively  around  the  room.  Pres- 
ently her  eyes  came  back  to  the  red-skinned  girl. 

"  I  will  tell  you  something,"  she  answered,  with 
her  confiding  smile.  "  In  my  heart  I  often  feel  that 
I  must  weep  ;  but  I  dare  not.  .  He  bade  me  be  gay 
until  he  should  come  again.  I  do  not  wish  to  dis- 
obey him,  for  already  his  soul  and  mine  are  wedded. 
But  oh,  he  delays  so  long !  Sometimes  I  think  it  is 
not  as  it  should  be,  to  smile  when  one  does  not  feel  like 
smiling.  It  is  as  if  the  sun  shone  hot,  and  there  was 
never  rain  —  as  if  it  were  always  day,  and  never  night." 

"  An  Indian  girl  never  weeps,"  exclaimed  Nedaw- 
niss.  "  Her  heart  is  always  like  the  twilight  of  the 
forest;  with  her,  to  love  means  to  suffer." 

"  No,  no  ;  to  love  is  to  be  always  glad  —  to  laugh 
and  sing;  to  feel  the  heart  beat  fast  in  the  breast, 
and  all  for  one  who  is  dearer  than  life,"  interrupted 
the  French  demoiselle,  with  eagerness. 

"  To  love  is  to  suffer,"  repeated  the  Indian  stoi- 
cally. 

Marianne  gave  over  the  contest. 

"  Yes ;  perhaps  to  love  is  to  suffer,"  she  assented 
wearily.  "  I  wish  he  would  send  me  the  message. 
It  is  hard  never  to  weep." 

Nedawniss  studied  the  delicate  face  before  her. 

"  Was  it  the  English  officer  whom  the  demoiselle 
loved  and  was  to  have  married?"  she  said.  "The 
officer  who  was  killed  as  he  stayed  to  save  a  soldier 
at  the  battle  of  the  Crimson  Waters?" 

Marianne  put  a  hand  to  her  forehead,  and  brushed 
back  the  wavy  locks  of  her  hair. 

"  My  head  aches,  and  I  know  nothing  of  the 
Crimson  Waters,"  she  replied  simply.  "  But  the 
officer  whom  I  love  is  the  handsomest  and  the  bravest 
of  the  English." 


326     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

For  a  moment  Nedawniss  looked  as  though  on  the 
point  of  disputing  the  assertion. 

"  I  have  brought  mademoiselle  a  present  from  her 
lover,"  she  broke  out  at  length. 

A  tremor  seized  upon  Marianne;  her  face  grew 
whiter,  and  the  smile  faded  from  her  lips.  With  an 
unexpected,  pathetic  dignity,  she  rose  to  her  feet. 

"  You  have  brought  me  a  present  from  Captain 
Dalzell?"  she  said  sweetly,  crushing  back  a  strange 
excitement  which  anon  brought  the  old  glow  to  her 
cheeks,  and  a  faint  gleam  of  the  old  light  to  her 
eyes.  "From  Captain  Dalzell!  Pray,  give  it  to  me 
at  once." 

Through  the  same  subtle  instinct  by  which  the  chil- 
dren of  the  wilderness  read  the  secrets  of  inanimate 
nature,  Nedawniss  felt  that  a  change  had  taken  place 
in  the  consciousness  of  the  mad  bride  —  that  the 
young  creature  before  her  was  no  longer  a  stricken 
child,  but  a  woman  struggling  to  stand  upright  be- 
neath her  burden  of  sorrow. 

"  At  once,"  reiterated  Marianne. 

The  Indian  would  have  resented  the  tone  of  com- 
mand in  another,  but  now  she  glided  to  the  French 
girl's  side,  saying,  — 

"  You  shall  have  it.  On  the  prairie  I  found  this. 
A  Canadian  in  the  Ottawa  camp  said  the  writing 
inside  would  tell  any  one  that  it  belonged  to  the 
white  chief  who  went  out  to  fight  the  warriors  of 
Pontiac." 

Thereupon,  she  put  into  Marianne's  hands  a  note- 
book of  English  leather,  much  the  worse  for  having 
lain  long  among  the  prairie  grasses  under  the  sun 
and  showers,  and  having  a  dark  stain  upon  one  cor- 
ner, —  a  stain  that  had  not  been  entirely  washed  out 
by  the  rains, 


GIVE    LOVE   GOOD-MORROW        327 

Marianne  shivered  as  she  took  the  gift,  but  the 
next  moment  she  pressed  it  to  her  heart.  Yes,  it 
was  Dalzell's  diary.  Only  the  night  before  he  went 
out  beyond  the  stockade,  beyond  the  gates  of  her 
life,  he  had  shown  her  the  glad  words  he  had  set 
down  on  the  day  when  he  came  to  Le  Detroit  to 
claim  her  as  his  bride. 

With  trembling  fingers  she  slipped  the  little  leather 
strap  that  bound  it,  and  opened  the  weather-worn 
book.  As  her  eyes  fell  on  the  familiar  writing,  a  low 
cry  escaped  her. 

"  It  is  like  the  lament  of  the  hare  struck  by  the 
arrow  of  the  hunter,  the  little  Mawboos,  who  seeks 
to  hide  his  misery  amid  a  tangle  of  vines,"  thought 
Nedawniss,  watching  her. 

Moaning  thus,  poor,  distraught  Marianne  turned 
the  leaves,  yet  distinguished  nothing  of  what  was 
written  there.  A  scrap  of  paper  fell  from  between 
the  pages  and  fluttered  to  the  floor.  Nedawniss  with 
rare  humility  stooped  to  pick  up  the  fragment,  but 
Marianne  in  sudden  anger  pounced  upon  it,  like  a 
young  lioness  protecting  her  own. 

It  was  her  last  letter  to  her  lover  ;  with  a  sigh  she 
replaced  it.  And  what  was  this  in  the  pocket  at  the 
back  of  the  book?  The  locket  that  contained  her 
picture  ;  the  blue  ribbon  having  worn  thin,  he  had 
still  carried  the  locket  next  his  heart.  Again  she 
turned  the  leaves,  murmuring  half  coherently,  — 

"  Ah,  here  are  the  last  words  he  wrote  ;  all  beyond 
is  white  and  —  red." 

She  bent  over  the  page ;  other  words  danced  be- 
fore her  —  these  words,  — 

"July  3 1 st.  Took  leave  of  my  little  bride.  My  poor 
Marianne,  weep  if  you  must,  but  be  brave,  be  brave" 


328    THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  The  message  !  the  message  !  "  gasped  the  girl ; 
and  throwing  up  her  arms  wildly,  she  fell  back  upon 
the  settle  and  gave  way  to  a  passion  of  tears. 

From  that  time  Marianne  de  St.  Ours  wore  her 
wedding  dress  no  more,  but  she  spent  many  days  in 
weeping. 

"  Do  not  chide  her,"  said  the  old  doctor,  Major 
Chapoton.  "  Tears  will  be  as  a  revivifying  dew  to 
her  hot  heart  and  brain ;  she  will  recover." 

And  so  it  was.  At  first  the  girl,  white  and  listless, 
like  the  ghost  of  her  lost  happiness,  began  to  flit 
silently  through  the  street  to  the  church.  Then  she 
visited  the  hospital  with  Madame  des  Ruisseaux,  and 
thus,  little  by  little,  grew  again  in  touch  with  the  life 
around  her.  And  those  who  looked  after  her  as  she 
went  her  way,  said  to  one  another,  — 

"  Before,  she  was  but  a  '  jolie  demoiselle/  but  sor- 
row has  made  her  a  beautiful  woman." 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-FOURTH 

A  MESSENGER  TO    SIR   WILLIAM 

THE  month  of  October  was  nearly  gone,  when 
one  day  a  corporal  brought  to  James  Sterling 
a  request  from  Major  Gladwin,  bidding  him  repair  to 
headquarters.  Though  the  Scotchman  had  given 
himself  heart  and  soul  to  the  defence  of  the  fort,  he 
had  held  little  speech  with  the  commandant,  save  in 
the  line  of  his  duty,  since  the  evening  when  he  had 
met  Angelique  Cuillerier  in  the  disguise  of  an  Indian 
girl,  seeking  an  interview  with  Gladwin. 

While  the  major  had  availed  himself  of  the  services 
of  his  captain  of  militia,  the  personal  intercourse  of 
the  two  men  had  been  characterized  by  an  awkward 
reserve  and  hauteur,  more  marked  than  their  former 
distant  courtesy  and  occasional  attempts  at  friendship. 

Now  the  commandant  informed  the  merchant  curtly 
that  when  night  came,  the  troops  would  embark  under 
cover  of  the  darkness  and  sail  away  toward  Niagara. 

For  a  moment  Sterling's  heart  beat  high.  Would 
not  the  departure  of  the  English  end  the  troubles  at 
the  strait  ?  The  present  state  of  affairs  was  ruining 
his  business  ;  moreover,  once  Gladwin  was  gone, 
would  not  Angelique  marry  him?  But  could  he  be 
such  a  craven  as  to  purchase  his  own  happiness  at  a 
cost  to  the  community  ?  The  withdrawal  of  the  gar- 
rison would  mean  only  that  in  the  spring  Sir  Jeffrey 
Amherst  would  send  new  troops  to  the  fort  ;  the 
Indians  would  gather  around  it  in  greater  force,  and 


330    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

the  misery  of  Le  Detroit  would  be  increased  a  hun- 
dred-fold. 

Therefore,  after  a  sharp  struggle  with  himself,  he 
represented  to  the  major  that  Pontiac  was  about  to 
set  out  for  the  hunting,  and  now  the  habitants  would 
be  willing  enough  to  furnish  food  to  the  garrison,  for 
he  h*id  discovered  that  the  French  commandant  at 
Fort  Chartres  had  refused  to  send  aid  to  the  chief. 

So  well  did  he  argue  against  himself,  that  with  re- 
newed spirit  Gladwin  declared  he  would  hold  the  fort 
at  all  hazard. 

Before  the  end  of  the  week,  the  great  Ottawa  with- 
drew with  his  family  to  the  Maumie.  A  few  days 
later,  Gladwin  again  sent  for  the  Scotchman,  and  an- 
nounced that  he  had  decided  to  send  him  for  stores 
to  Niagara,  and  beyond  with  a  report  to  Sir  William 
Johnson. 

At  another  time  Sterling  would  have  welcomed 
this  opportunity  for  a  voyage  accompanied  by  enough 
of  peril  to  lend  a  zest  to  the  spirit  of  adventure,  and 
an  exhilarating  journey  through  the  forest  in  the  keen 
air  of  late  November.  After  being  shut  up  in  the 
stockade  for  many  months,  the  prospect  would  have 
been,  indeed,  pleasant  to  a  man  of  his  energetic 
temperament. 

Yet,  who  could  say  that  he  would  ever  come  back 
from  this  expedition?  Even  though  the  ship  in 
which  he  sailed  might  ride  the  storms  of  Lake  Erie, 
would  he  escape  the  fury  of  the  hostile  Delawares 
who  roamed  the  woods  of  western  New  York  and 
Pennsylvania,  and  were  constantly  on  the  watch  for 
the  scouting  parties  of  the  English  ?  Was  Gladwin 
sending  him  away  that  he  might  supplant  him  in  the 
favor  of  "la  belle  du  Detroit"?  Well,  if  so,  he 
would  strive  to  outwit  the  major  by  succeeding  in 


A    MESSENGER   TO   SIR   WILLIAM     331 

the  task   assigned  him ;  he  would  win  honors,  that 
he  might  lay  them  at  her  feet. 

Animated  by  these  thoughts,  he  answered  tersely, 
"  Very  well,  sir,  I  will  go." 

The  following  evening  he  went  out  to  the  Cuil- 
lerier  farm.  Unfortunately  for  his  hope  of  a  t£te-a- 
t£te  with  Angelique,  her  father  was  at  home,  and  chose 
to  treat  him  with  marked  coolness.  La  bonne  mere, 
too,  being  out  of  temper,  pointedly  alluded  to  the 
sorrows  of  Marianne  de  St.  Ours  as  a  punishment 
sent  from  Providence  because  of  the  demoiselle's 
promise  to  marry  an  enemy  of  her  country.  It  was 
only  too  plain  that  her  warning  was  like  a  knell  in  the 
ears  of  her  daughter.  The  demoiselle  had  not  yet 
recovered  from  the  shock  of  having  witnessed  the 
tragic  fate  of  Captain  Campbell,  and  the  fright  of  the 
battle  of  the  Creek  of  the  Crimson  Waters,  it  was 
said.  None  were  aware  of  the  additional  fear  which 
had  wrecked  her  nerves,  the  ever-present  dread  of 
Pontiac's  vengeance.  Now  she  was  ill  again.  Had 
Sterling  known  that  this  illness  had  followed  the 
receipt  of  the  news  of  his  intended  journey  (brought 
home  by  Antoine),  he  might  have  discovered  in  the 
coincidence  some  reason  for  cheerfulness. 

As  it  was,  too  weak  to  rise,  she  sat  by  the  hearth, 
while  Madame  Cuillerier  remained  in  evidence, 
plainly  determined  to  give  him  no  opportunity  for  a 
tender  parting. 

Angelique,  summoning  her  old  merry  spirit,  was 
gaily  gracious.  When,  however,  after  a  short  stay, 
he  rose  to  go  and,  bending  over  her  chair,  took  her 
hands  and  kissed  them,  to  his  surprise  she  burst 
into  tears. 

•  He  saw  Dame  Cuillerier  snatch  a  smelling-bottle 
from  the  table. 


332    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

"  Were  those  tears  for  me,  sweetheart,  I  would  bid 
you  dry  your  eyes,"  he  whispered  hastily  to  the 
weeping  girl.  "  Pray  God,  I  may  return.  I  carry 
the  thought  of  you  ever  in  my  heart !  Love,  do  not 
forget,  do  not  forget !  " 

Before  he  could  say  more,  la  bonne  mere  thrust 
herself  between  them  and  bade  him  an  unceremoni- 
ous "  Au  revoir." 

"  Au  revoir,  monsieur,"  echoed  Angelique  with  a 
choking  sob. 

Thus  dismissed,  he  had  no  choice  save  to  take  his 
departure.  Before  he  reached  the  gate  of  the  pali- 
sade, he  heard  a  soft  voice  calling  his  name. 

"  Monsieur  Sterling  !  " 

He  turned,  and  in  the  light  from  the  open  door- 
way saw  Tante  Josette  hurrying  down  the  path. 

"  Au  revoir,  monsieur,"  she  said,  as  she  came  up 
to  him,  "  do  not  be  disheartened.  La  chere  Ange- 
lique has  nerves,  and  she  has  been  much  pestered  of 
late.  When  peace  comes,  she  will  be  herself  again. 
Au  revoir ;  I  doubt  not  she  will  pray  daily  for  the 
safe  return  of  so  faithful  a  friend  as  you  have  been, 
and  I  myself  will  beg  the  good  Ste.  Anne  to  obtain 
you  all  success." 

Before  the  Scotchman  could  find  words  for  more 
than  a  hasty  "  God  bless  you,  Mademoiselle  Jo- 
sette," the  kind-hearted  little  old  maid  sped  again  to 
the  house.  The  next  day  he  sailed  away  on  the 
"  Gladwin." 

Soon  after,  the  snows  and  ice,  mailed  hosts  of  the 
north,  beleagued  the  lonely  fort  of  Le  Detroit  in  as 
close  a  siege  as  that  erstwhile  waged  by  the  Indians. 

The  "  Gateway  of  the  Strait"  was  locked  fast  by 
the  hand  of  the  Frost  King.  Come  what  might,  there 


A   MESSENGER   TO    SIR   WILLIAM     333 

was  no  longer  a  chance  of  escape  for  the  garrison  by 
river  or  lake.  Sometimes  for  weeks  together  not  a 
redman  was  seen  in  the  vicinity  of  the  stockade,  yet 
if  a  soldier  chanced  to  wander  into  the  forest  in 
search  of  game,  or  strolled  upon  the  prairie  beyond 
the  range  of  the  guns  of  the  fort,  he  was  never  heard 
of  again. 

A  tragedy  there  was,  also,  within  the  fort.  Late 
one  evening  as  Major  Gladwin,  going  the  rounds  of 
the  stockade,  walked  down  a  little  cross-street,  he 
felt  instinctively  the  presence  of  some  one  near,  and, 
wheeling  about,  found  that  his  steps  were  being 
dogged  by  an  Indian  girl. 

"  Has  not  the  Ojibwa  been  commanded  to  keep 
away  from  the  palisade?"  he  demanded  sternly. 

"  Monsieur  le  commandant,  I  am  only  bringing 
home  a  little  pair  of  moccasins  that  I  have  made  for 
Mademoiselle  de  St.  Ours.  Madame  de  Ruisseaux 
will  shelter  me  for  the  night,"  answered  the  girl 
deprecatingly. 

Under  the  circumstances,  how  could  he  order  her 
to  be  put  out?  Turning  away,  he  strode  on,  im- 
patiently conscious  that  she  still  followed.  Now  and 
again,  a  ray  from  a  lamp  of  bears'  oil  or  a  candle 
glimmered  from  behind  the  curtains  of  a  house,  but 
the  open  space  of  the  military  garden  (through  which 
he  had  to  pass)  was  lit  only  by  the  dim  light  of  the 
stars. 

He  had  proceeded  about  half-way  across  this 
parade  ground  when,  suddenly,  a  man  wearing  a 
mask  arose  in  his  path  like  a  spirit  of  evil,  and  thrust 
at  him  with  a  dagger.  He  had  no  time  to  draw  his 
sword,  nor  even  to  snatch  the  pistol  from  his  belt. 
He  could  only  depend  upon  his  muscular  strength 
to  ward  off  the  would-be  assassin.  Already  wounded 


334    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

in  the  side  by  his  assailant,  he  grew  faint,  his  brain 
reeled,  his  grasp  upon  the  arm  of  his  unknown  enemy 
relaxed.  Again  the  latter  raised  the  knife,  but  on 
the  instant  out  of  the  night  an  Indian  woman  sprang 
between  the  combatants.  The  next  moment  the 
knife  meant  for  the  heart  of  Gladwin  was  plunged 
deep  in  her  breast,  and  with  a  faint  cry  she  sank 
dying  at  the  feet  of  the  man  for  whom  she  had  will- 
ingly given  her  life. 

It  had  all  happened  within  a  few  minutes.  The 
commandant  shot  into  the  darkness  after  the  fleeing 
stranger.  The  report  of  his  weapon,  and  his  call  as 
he  bent  over  the  girl,  brought  the  guard  to  the  spot. 
But  the  unknown  man  had  escaped.  And  when  the 
sentry  flashed  his  torch  upon  the  still  form  lying  on 
the  grass,  Gladwin  saw  with  mingled  sorrow,  admira- 
tion, and  pity  that  the  soul  of  Nedawniss  the  Ojibwa 
had  taken  flight  to  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter. 

The  end  of  the  long  winter,  sometimes  prayed  for, 
again  dreaded,  came  at  last.  Once  more  the  orchard 
of  the  Huron  Mission,  the  Normandy  pear  trees  of 
the  habitants'  gardens,  were  like  great  bouquets  of 
fragrant  blooms ;  there  was  "  a  perfume  in  every 
wind,  music  in  every  tree."  The  rich  carpets  of 
Versailles  would  have  appeared  paltry  and  mean 
compared  to  the  splendor  of  the  prairie.  The 
woods  were  fair  walls  of  green,  shutting  in  from  the 
outer  world  this  region  which  the  old  missionary 
voyageurs  Galinee  and  Dollier  de  Casson,  and  after 
them  the  gallant  Sieur  Cadillac,  termed  the  terrestrial 
paradise. 

The  Moon  of  the  Young  Leaves  lengthened  into 
June,  and  the  Moon  of  Strawberries  became  the 
Moon  of  the  Roving  Deer;  the  Hurons,  Pottawat- 


A   MESSENGER   TO   SIR   WILLIAM    335 

tomies,  Ojibwas,  and  many  of  the  Ottawas  returned 
from  the  hunt  to  their  villages.  Yet  Pontiac  did  not 
appear  at  Le  Grand  Marais,  nor  was  he  to  be  found 
among  the  groves  of  the  Isle  au  P£che.  It  was 
rumored  that  the  Great  Chief  was  still  engaged  in 
stirring  up  the  tribes  of  the  west.  Since  he  had  not 
come,  the  habitants  who  had  sown  their  fields  in  fear 
began  to  reap  the  harvest  with  gladness. 

Meantime,  an  Ojibwa  runner,  who'  came  in  from 
the  forests  bordering  Lake  Erie,  brought  news  that  a 
company  of  English  had  embarked  on  the  lake,  and 
one  day  at  the  close  of  the  summer  a  fleet  came 
proudly  sailing  up  the  river.  It  was  Bradstreet's 
ostentatious  expedition,  and  on  the  day  his  army 
landed  the  long-suffering  garrison  was  relieved  and 
the  new  troops  went  on  duty. 

With  the  reinforcements  came  Sterling,  triumphant 
and  successful. 

When  he  appeared  at  the  Cuillerier  homestead 
Angelique  welcomed  him  with  shining  eyes.  She 
was  no  longer  ill,  and  the  color  that  suffused  her 
countenance  rendered  her  lovelier  than  ever.  She 
paid  a  flattering  attention  to  the  story  of  his  adven- 
tures, sighed  over  his  perils,  and  congratulated  him 
upon  the  honors  he  had  received  at  Niagara.  But 
when  he  sought  to  turn  the  conversation  to  the  sub- 
ject nearest  to  his  heart,  parbleu,  swift  as  a  bird,  the 
girl  put  to  him  a  hundred  questions  about  the 
officers  at  Fort  Schlosser,  about  his  fierce  encounter 
with  a  band  of  Schawnees !  Did  Sir  William  John- 
son really  ask  for  her  ?  Was  the  baronet's  new,  half- 
Indian  wife,  Molly  Brant,  as  handsome  as  report 
said?  Mademoiselle  Angelique  was  clearly  in  no 
mood  for  sentiment,  now  that  her  lover  was  safe  at 
home  again.  La  bonne  mere  was,  however,  more 


336    THE    HEROINE    OF    THE    STRAIT 

civil  to  the  Scotchman  than  at  his  last  visit;  Tante 
Josette,  frankly  cordial ;  Antoine  was  away. 

The  next  evening  as  the  merchant  sat  over  his 
solitary  supper  in  the  parlor  beyond  his  warehouse, 
Jaco  the  Pani  boy  brought  to  him  a  small  mocock,  or 
Indian  basket,  saying,  — 

"  Monsieur,  here  is  a  box  of  bonbons  that  Madame 
des  Ruisseaux's  woman  Agathe  bade  me  put  into 
your  hands  with  the  compliments  of  her  mistress." 

It  was  a  pretty  French  custom  to  send  such  little 
gifts  to  family  friends  upon  festival  days  in  token  of 
good  will  and  remembrance,  and  the  fete  of  the  As- 
sumption was  just  passed. 

"  Madame  des  Ruisseaux  is  very  kind.  You  may 
go,  Jaco." 

"  Gitchie  manitou,"  mumbled  the  boy  as  he  quitted 
the  room,  "there  sits  the  master  and  never  once 
looks  into  the  mocock,  yet  under  the  lid  are  candied 
cherries  and  meringues  of  pounded  hickory  nuts. 
But  I  dared  only  peep  at  them,  for  Agathe  said  that 
though  they  are  harmless  for  white  people,  were  a 
Pani  to  taste  of  them  he  would  fall  down  dead." 

Left  alone,  Sterling  stared  blankly  at  the  box. 

"  The  dear  old  madame  thinks  I  have  still  the 
sweet  tooth  of  a  lad,"  he  ruminated. 

All  at  once  he  became  aware  that  the  tracery 
around  the  edge  of  the  lid  formed  itself  into  written 
words,  and  following  the  curved  lines  of  the  ara- 
besque, he  read  in  French,  "  He  who  seeks,  finds." 
Similar  legends  were  almost  always  inscribed  upon 
these  souvenirs,  he  now  recalled.  Nevertheless,  this 
one  seemed  to  have  a  special  significance.  With 
careless  curiosity  he  turned  out  the  contents  of  the 
box  upon  the  table.  The  next  moment  he  started, 
for  there  among  the  comfits  lay  a  tiny  fragment  of 


A   MESSENGER   TO   SIR   WILLIAM    337 

birch  bark,  folded  into  the  shape  of  a  military 
chapeau. 

"  A  note  from  Madame  des  Ruisseaux  !  This  must 
be  about  some  matter  which  requires  caution  and  dis- 
cretion," he  soliloquized,  opening  the  missive. 

Written  in  French,  of  course,  its  substance  was  as 
follows : 

"  MONSIEUR  STERLING,  —  I  am  with  my  aunt,  Madame  des 
Ruisseaux.  Pray  come  to  see  me  as  soon  as  you  have  read  this. 
Come  without  delay,  a  life  may  be  at  stake. 

"  ANGELIQUE." 

The  merchant  raised  his  eyes,  and,  chancing  to  turn 
them  toward  the  window,  saw  the  woman  Agathe  flit 
past,  as  though  she  had  waited  to  make  sure  he  had 
found  the  billet. 

He  started  to  his  feet  and  called  the  slave  boy. 

"  Jaco,"  he  said,  when  the  latter  appeared,  "  close 
the  shutters.  I  will  return  before  the  bugler  at  the 
fort  sounds  the  last  call,  or  the  bell  of  Ste.  Anne's 
tolls  the  '  De  Profundis.' " 

Taking  his  hat,  he  hurried  out  of  the  house  and 
down  the  street. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  residence  of  Madame  des 
Ruisseaux,  it  was  the  dame  herself,  and  not  Ange- 
lique,  who  greeted  him. 

"Permit  me  to  bid  you  a  warm  welcome  home, 
Monsieur  Sterling,"  she  said,  motioning  him  to  a 
place  on  the  settle  beside  her. 

"  Madame,  I  hope  I  find  you  well,"  answered  the 
merchant,  wondering  why  he  had  been  so  hastily 
summoned. 

"  I  sleep  excellently  and  do  not  decline  three  meals 
a  day,"  was  the  conclusive  rejoinder. 

"  And  Mademoiselle  de  St.  Ours  is  happier?" 


338    THE    HEROINE    OF  THE   STRAIT 

Madame  des  Ruisseaux  raised  her  hands  and  eyes 
to  Heaven,  or,  to  be  more  exact,  to  the  dingy  rafters 
above  her  head. 

"  Praise  be  to  Ste.  Anne !  "  she  exclaimed  with 
a  sigh,  "  la  chere  Marianne  spends  nearly  all  of  her 
time  at  the  hospital  now.  '  The  Angel  of  Consola- 
tion '  the  sick  soldiers  call  her.  To  the  French  habi- 
tants, who  have  been  made  poor  by  the  war,  she  is 
most  charitable,  as  also  to  the  Indian  women  and  chil- 
dren, although,  '  pauvre  demoiselle,'  one  might  think 
she  would  shrink  from  the  aborigines.  When  peace 
comes,  albeit  I  shall  have  many  reasons  for  joy,  there 
will  be  one  for  sadness,  since  then  Marianne  will  go  to 
Quebec  to  enter  the  convent  of  the  Hotel  Dieu.  At 
first  we  thought  the  Ursulines  would  be  her  choice, 
but  to  the  care  of  the  unhappy  she  wishes  to  devote 
her  life.  Ah,  monsieur  !  as  grain  is  winnowed  by  the 
wind,  so  is  the  soul  rendered  more  goodly  by  suffering." 

Sterling  silently  assented.  Yet,  sincere  as  was  his 
sympathy  for  the  beautiful  Marianne  de  St.  Ours,  he 
saw  that  Madame  des  Ruisseaux  was  talking  in  a  per- 
functory manner.  The  sound  of  a  woman's  sobbing 
that  presently  came  from  the  room  beyond  confirmed 
this  suspicion.  The  old  lady  leaned  toward  him,  as 
though  about  to  speak  upon  some  subject  which  evi- 
dently agitated  her,  but  at  the  same  moment  the  door 
between  the  two  rooms  was  flung  open  and  Mademoi- 
selle Cuillerier  appeared,  supporting  the  trembling 
form  of  Madame  Clotilde  Godefroy.  Sterling  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  bowed  low  to  the  ladies. 

Angeltque  was  alert,  self-reliant,  and  fired  with  en- 
ergy, as  her  lover  liked  best  to  see  her.  Madame 
Godefroy  was  pale,  and,  although  she  strove  for  com- 
posure, her  heavy  eyelids  showed  that  it  was  she  who 
had  been  weeping. 


A   MESSENGER   TO   SIR   WILLIAM    339 

"  Monsieur  Sterling,"  she  began,  and  stopped  short, 
overcome  by  emotion. 

"  Clearly  you  have  not  heard,  monsieur,"  inter- 
posed Angelique,  to  spare  her  the  effort  of  proceed- 
ing. "  Clearly  you  do  not  know  what  ce  bete  English 
officer  has  done  now?  " 

"  Colonel  Bradstreet  has  indeed  made  several  de- 
plorable blunders  since  he  has  been  at  Le  Detroit,  as, 
for  instance,  the  cutting  into  shreds  of  the  peace  belt 
the  Indians  presented  to  him ;  an  act  that  has  greatly 
angered  them,  I  hear,"  acknowledged  Sterling. 

"  Quel  sottise !  "  interrupted  Mademoiselle  Cuille- 
rier.  "  He  thinks  himself  a  greater  man  than  Sir 
William  Johnson,  yet  he  will  stir  up  not  only  the 
savages,  but  the  French.  Here,  only  two  days  after 
his  arrival,  he  talks  of  hanging  our  brave  Jacques 
Godefroy,  with  more  indifference  than  he  would  show 
when  ordering  his  dinner.  For  'tis  said  he  is  over- 
fond  of  the  pleasures  of  the  table,  and  finds  the  liquor 
of  the  French  as  good  as  English  rum,  if  so  be  there 
is  enough  of  it." 

"  Madame,  believe  me,  you  are  needlessly  alarmed," 
said  the  Scotchman,  turning  to  Clotilde.  "  Surely,  you 
remember  that  soon  after  the  departure  of  Pontiac, 
when  many  of  the  habitants  purposed  to  embark  their 
families  in  pirogues  and  forsake  the  shores  of  Le  De- 
troit for  those  of  the  Wabash,  Major  Gladwin  informed 
them  that  they  might  remain  here  without  fear  of  mo- 
lestation by  the  English  conquerors.  Moreover,  he 
bade  me  impress  upon  the  commanding  officer  at 
Niagara  that  for  the  sake  of  those  Canadians  who 
rendered  valuable  services  to  the  English  during  the 
siege,  the  lives  and  property  of  all  the  farmers  and 
townspeople  should  be  protected." 

"  Alas,  my  husband  was  excepted  from  the  general 


340    THE    HEROINE    OF  THE    STRAIT 

amnesty,"  lamented  the  unhappy  Clotilde,  finding 
voice  at  last.  "  Major  Gladwin  has  never  liked  him 
since  the  luckless  evening  when  Pontiac  detained  the 
brave  and  ill-fated  Captain  Campbell  at  the  house  of 
Angelique's  father.  But  Jacques  has  been  accused 
of  many  acts  that  were  done  by  others." 

"  Major  Gladwin  may  be  prejudiced,  but  he  will  not 
be  unjust,"  rejoined  Sterling  confidently.  "  As  for 
Colonel  Bradstreet,  he  is  a  gruff  man,  and  perchance 
some  careless  speech  of  his,  uttered  after  a  too  gener- 
ous potation,  has  been  repeated  to  you." 

"  Word  was  brought  to  Madame  Godefroy  awhile 
since  that  the  fate  of  her  husband  is  to  be  decided  to- 
night," interposed  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier.  "  Dame 
Clotilde  therewith  rushed  from  her  home  with  her 
child,  and  came  to  Madame  des  Ruisseaux  for  ad- 
vice. Being  here,  I  despatched  a  message  to  you  in 
a  box  of  comfits,  for  in  these  times  't  is  safest  to  trust 
few  with  a  knowledge  of  our  affairs.  We  go  at  once 
to  seek  speech  with  the  colonel,  and  would  be  glad  of 
your  escort." 

"  Mademoiselle,  madame,  you  honor  me  by  the  re- 
quest," replied  Sterling.  "  Let  me  not  delay  you 
further;  we  will  consult  together  on  the  way." 

"  Take  care  of  my  child  who  is  sleeping  so  sweetly 
in  the  room  yonder,"  pleaded  Clotilde,  embracing 
Madame  des  Ruisseaux. 

"  Praise  be  to  Ste.  Anne,  the  English  colonel  is  not 
an  ogre  to  spirit  away  children.  Be  off  with  you," 
retorted  the  older  woman,  with  pretended  impatience. 

Thereupon  the  distracted  wife  set  out  with  Angelique 
and  the  merchant.  They  proceeded  rapidly  toward 
the  gate  of  the  town,  called  then  and  for  many  years 
after  the  Pontiac  Gate,  because  by  it  the  Great  Chief 
entered  to  hold  his  treacherous  council  with  Major 


A    MESSENGER   TO   SIR   WILLIAM    341 

Gladvvin,  and  through  it  he  retreated  crest-fallen  when 
his  plot  failed. 

Sterling's  elation  at  Angelique's  choice  of  him  as 
her  knight  was  suddenly  dashed  by  the  realization 
that  without  his  aid  she  and  her  friend  could  not 
have  passed  this  gate.  Still,  he  took  a  grim  satisfac- 
tion in  the  thought  that  she  had  found  it  expedi- 
ent to  turn  to  him.  As  they  reached  the  shadow  of 
the  tall  hickory  posts  which  formed  the  sides  of  the 
entrance,  a  soldier  with  levelled  musket  stepped  out 
of  the  gloom,  and  challenged  the  party.  The  women 
shrank  back,  but,  as  captain  of  militia,  Sterling  had 
the  countersign  and  gave  it,  upon  which  the  guard 
threw  open  the  wicket,  and  they  passed  on. 

It  was  now  about  eight  o'clock.  From  the  tranquil 
August  sky  the  stars  shone  down  upon  Bradstreet's 
little  army,  encamped  upon  the  common  outside  the 
stockade.  The  weather-stained  tents  gleamed  white 
in  the  dim  light,  and  beyond  them  lay  the  river,  a 
dark  current  as  resistless  as  time.  At  the  outpost 
of  the  tented  town  there  was  another  guard  to  be 
passed ;  then  presently  the  visitors  stood  before  the 
quarters  of  the  chief  officer.  Again  they  were  halted. 

"  The  countersign  is  not  enough  here,  sir,"  said  the 
sentry  tersely;  "  the  colonel  has  but  just  dined.  He 
is  engaged  with  Major  Gladwin  in  the  consideration 
of  business  of  importance,  and  my  orders  are  to  admit 
no  one." 

Madame  Godefroy  recoiled  as  though  she  had 
received  a  blow,  for  she  knew  the  business  whereof 
he  spoke  concerned  the  life  of  her  husband.  Ange- 
lique  also  appeared  disconcerted. 

A  moody  impulse  seized  upon  the  Scotchman. 
Taking  from  the  pocket  of  his  surtout  a  notebook,  he 
opened  it  at  a  blank  page,  and  passing  it  to  the  girl, 


342     THE   HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

together  with  the  silver  pencil  case  wherein  leads 
were  carried  at  that  day,  he  said, — 

"  If  mademoiselle  will  write  a  line  to  Major  Glad- 
win,  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  the  only  password 
needed." 

In  the  imperfect  light  he  did  not  see  the  reproach- 
ful glance  she  cast  at  him,  but  she  laughed  lightly, 
tossed  her  head,  and  replied  in  a  low  tone, — 

"I  thank  you,  monsieur;  but  before  appealing  to 
the  courtesy  of  the  commandant,  I  prefer  to  test  your 
influence  with  the  colonel." 

The  artful  minx ;  this  was  a  clever  turning  of  the 
tables.  Sterling  compressed  his  lips,  and  bethought 
himself  that  a  man  is  rash  indeed  to  seek  to  bandy 
words  with  a  woman.  Mechanically  he  tore  a  page 
from  the  book,  wrote  a  request  thereon,  and  handed 
the  scrap  of  paper  to  the  guard.  Fortunately,  the 
latter  had  heard  many  tales  of  Sterling's  kindness  to 
the  soldiers  during  the  siege,  therefore  he  was  willing 
to  oblige  the  popular  captain  of  militia.  Summon- 
ing an  orderly  from  the  ante-room  of  the  tent,  he 
bade  him  take  the  message  to  his  chief.  After  a  few 
minutes,  spent  by  the  party  in  awkward  silence,  the 
orderly  returned. 

"  Colonel  Bradstreet  bids  me  say  ^as  'ow  'e  will 
receive  Mr.  Sterling  ^and  the  ladies,"  he  said,  with  a 
grin. 

Sterling's  brow  cleared ;  despite  the  gravity  of  the 
situation,  Angelique  could  not  refrain  from  darting  at 
him  a  demurely  roguish  glance.  But  she  checked  the 
smile  upon  her  lips,  and,  turning  to  Dame  Clotilde, 
whispered  encouragement  to  the  young  wife,  and  be- 
sought her  to  dry  her  tears. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIFTH 

JACQUES   GODEFROY 

THE  orderly  led  the  way,  and  the  two  women, 
escorted  by  Sterling,  followed  through  the  small 
outer  apartment.  When  they  entered  the  main  tent, 
however,  Madame  Godefroy  uttered  a  low  cry,  and 
would  have  fallen  to  the  ground  but  for  the  support- 
ing arm  of  Angelique. 

The  girl  was  also  startled  by  the  scene  before  her, 
while  the  Scotchman  could  hardly  conceal  his  own 
surprise.  The  colonel  was  still  at  table  ;  on  his  right 
hand  sat  Major  Gladwin,  at  his  left,  Captain  Morris, 
who  had  come  with  him  from  Niagara,  and  was  to  go 
into  the  Illinois  country  to  receive  the  submission  of 
Pontiac. 

Upon  the  board  remained  the  remnant  of  the 
repast,  and  amid  the  disorder  lay  Bradstreet's  over- 
turned goblet.  Having  found  a  draught  of  the 
home-made  red  wine  of  the  habitants  insipid  after  his 
stronger  potations,  he  had  pushed  it  from  him,  and 
now  down  the  white  napery  it  dripped  in  slow  drops 
like  blood,  which  a  fine  dog  that  lay  under  the  table 
lapped  as  they  fell. 

Madame  Godefroy  had  not  been  dismayed  by  the 
rubicund,  forbidding  countenance  of  Bradstreet,  nor 
yet  by  the  stern,  cold  face  of  Gladwin.  Opposite  to 
the  officers,  against  the  background  of  canvas  wall, 
stood  Jacques  Godefroy.  His  hands  were  bound  be- 
hind him ;  his  blue  blouse,  fallen  open  at  the  throat, 


344     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

revealed  his  broad,  bronzed  chest ;  a  long  lock  of 
straight  black  hair  hung  over  his  brow,  and  upon  his 
dark  visage  was  a  look  of  sullen  and  impotent  oppo- 
sition. It  was  when  his  eyes  met  those  of  Clotilde 
that  she,  realizing  the  peril  of  his  position  and  feeling 
its  ignominy  like  a  sword  thrust,  came  so  near  to 
swooning. 

"What  —  what  —  is  this?"  demanded  the  colonel, 
turning  upon  Sterling.  "  Your  request  said  two 
ladies  wished  to  pay  their  respects  to  me,  and  I 
directed  that  your  party  should  be  admitted ;  for  I 
am  never  so  ungallant  as  to  be  indifferent  to  the  fair 
sex,"  he  added,  with  a  leer  at  Angelique.  "  I  do  not 
wonder  that  the  dame  mislikes  the  look  of  the  fellow 
in  the  corner  yonder.  Egad,  of  a  truth  I  forgot  him 
for  the  nonce.  Let  her  withdraw  for  a  few  minutes ; 
we  shall  be  done  with  him  presently." 

"  Sir,"  answered  the  Scotchman,  with  dry  satire, 
"  it  is  in  the  interest  .of  this  prisoner,  Monsieur 
Godefroy,  that  these  ladies  have  come.  They  did 
not,  however,  expect  to  meet  with  him  here  and  in 
this  manner ;  therefore,  you  will  perhaps  think  it 
small  wonder  that  his  wife  is  for  the  moment  some- 
what agitated." 

"  His  wife,  you  say,  Mr.  Sterling?"  repeated  Brad- 
street  testily.  "  Odzookens,  I  '11  have  no  tomfoolery 
or  play-acting.  Take  her  away,  take  her  away." 

But  by  this  time  Madame  Clotilde  had  regained 
strength  and  composure ;  for  the  gentle  caress,  the 
womanly  sympathy  of  Angelique  were  to  her  like 
a  sweet  cordial,  and  now  she  stood  erect  and  ap- 
parently calm,  save  that  her  clasped  hands  worked 
nervously. 

"  I  beseech  your  Excellency's  permission  to  stay," 
she  pleaded,  with  an  effort  to  steady  her  voice ;  "  I 


JACQUES    GODEFROY  345 

will  make  no  further  trouble.  It  is  many  weeks  since 
I  have  been  allowed  to  see  my  husband." 

"  Gad  so,  let  her  regard  him  then,  sir,  if  her  emotion 
is  caused  by  admiration  of  the  picture,"  interjected 
the  young  captain  in  an  undertone.  "  Women  are 
skittish  cattle,  and  if  you  have  her  turned  out  she 
will  take  to  such  a  lamenting  as  will  put  the  camp 
in  a  panic.  The  soldiers  will  think  it  an  Indian 
death-cry,  or  the  bay  of  the  ghostly  hound  of  the 
Chase  Galere,  and  you  will  get  no  good  fighting  out 
of  them  if  we  are  caught  in  a  skirmish  with  the 
savages." 

"  Odzookens,  then  she  may  stay,"  answered  the 
colonel,  the  more  readily,  perhaps,  because  if  Ma- 
dame Clotilde  retired  Angelique  would  go,  too, 
and  he  was  loath  to  so  soon  lose  sight  of  the  pretty 
demoiselle. 

When  it  was  decided  that  the  women  should  re- 
main, a  smile  of  satisfaction  flitted  across  the  swarthy 
features  of  Godefroy,  but  the  next  moment  his  ex- 
pression became  as  fiercely  lowering  as  before. 

"  Odzookens,  since  the  decanters  are  empty,  I  sup- 
pose we  must  come  to  some  decision  before  we  have 
them  refilled,"  Bradstreet  continued,  glancing  from 
Gladwin  to  the  captain. 

The  officers  bowed  gravely,  and  he  thereupon 
turned  to  the  prisoner. 

"  Well,  sirrah,"  he  began,  and  then  added  in  French, 
which  he  spoke  haltingly,  "  well,  what  have  you  to 
say  for  yourself?  " 

The  Canadian  raised  his  head  and  flung  back  the 
lock  of  hair  that  shaded  his  eyes. 

"  I  have  to  say,"  he  replied  proudly  in  his  native  lan- 
guage, "  first,  that  my  name  is  not  seerrah,  but  Jacques 
Godefroy.  I  am  the  son  of  the  Sieur  de  Marboeuf, 


346    THE   HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

and  descended  from  the  Godefroys  of  Rouen,  whose 
ancestor  was  the  great  Godefroy  de  Bouillon." 

"  Odzookens,  I  did  not  know,  major,  that  you  had 
in  duress  a  scion  of  one  of  the  old  crusaders,"  laughed 
Bradstreet,  with  cutting  irony. 

Mademoiselle  Cuillerier  stared  at  him  with  half-in- 
credulous horror.  Was  it  in  this  hap-hazard  manner 
that  Godefroy  had  been  arraigned  and  was  to  be  tried 
for  his  life? 

"  Well,  Mr.  De  Marboeuf,  De  Bouillon,  or  whatever 
you  choose  to  call  yourself,"  proceeded  the  colonel, 
"  since  you  were  arrested  with  the  birch-bark  missives 
of  Pontiac  in  your  pouch,  I  presume  you  will  not 
deny  that  you  sustained  the  arch-fiend  in  his  savage 
warfare  against  the  British  forces,  and  thus  have 
proved  yourself  a  traitor  to  your  legitimate  sover- 
eign, King  George  the  Third.  You  stand  convicted 
of  treason,  sirrah,  and  the  penalty  of  treason  is 
death." 

At  the  last  word  Madame  Clotilde  waxed  as  white 
as  her  kerchief,  and  swayed  blindly;  Angelique's 
arm  again  supported  her,  however,  and  she  betrayed 
her  emotion  only  by  an  agonized  glance  at  her  hus- 
band. For  she  knew  that  any  moan  or  ejaculation 
of  grief  would  mean  her  exclusion  from  the  proceed- 
ings, and  her  all-absorbing  wish  was  to  remain  near 
him  in  this  crisis  of  his  disasters. 

But  Jacques  Godefroy  had  faced  danger  too  often 
to  blanch  when  confronted  with  it  now.  In  the  for- 
est, among  hostile  savages,  on  lake  and  river,  at  the 
mercy  of  the  elements,  at  the  hands  of  the  English, 
he  had  braved  "  the  fell  sergeant,  death."  Now  he 
actually  listened  with  a  smile  to  the  pompous  ad- 
dress of  Bradstreet.  But  it  reminded  Sterling  of  the 
smile  of  the  Indian  at  the  stake,  the  stoical  defiance 


JACQUES   GODEFROY  347 

wherewith  the  redman  flaunts  his  enemies  when  he 
sees  life  and  all  its  joys  fast  receding  from  him,  and 
his  soul  is  in  the  throes  of  a  greater  conflict  than  the 
agony  that  tortures  his  body.  When  the  colonel 
had  finished  his  harangue,  the  prisoner  rejoined 
calmly,  — 

"  Monsieur,  I  neither  admit  nor  deny  the  charges 
you  bring  against  me.  I  never  pretended  to  take  ser- 
vice with  the  English ;  yet,  on  the  other  side,  never 
did  I  betray  them.  Major  Gladwin  has  said  I 
knowingly  decoyed  Captain  Campbell  to  his  fate. 
It  is  not  true.  When  I  prevailed  upon  the  captain 
to  go  out  to  the  '  c6te  du  nord,'  I  thought  that  by 
going  he  would  save  the  English  from  massacre. 
Pontiac  deceived  me,  although  he  was  my  friend. 
He  has  slept  many  times  at  my  hearth  and  eaten  at 
my  table.  For  years  I  traded  with  his  young  men 
for  furs,  and  they  were  glad  to  have  of  me  the  hunt- 
ing knives,  guns,  and  blankets  which  I  brought  from 
Montreal.  Major  Rogers  and  his  rangers  came 
through  the  woods  and  over  the  waters  and  found  us 
here.  They  showed  strange  orders  to  our  comman- 
dant, Monsieur  de  Bellestre,  and  sent  him  a  prisoner 
to  Niagara.  But  the  French  of  Le  Detroit  could  not 
believe  that  our  King  had  given  up  his  fine  province 
of  New  France.  I  swore  on  the  cross  that  to  the 
last  I  would  be  faithful  to  the  cause  of  the  fleur-de- 
lis,  but  I  did  not  countenance  murder.  I  sought  to 
hold  the  Great  Chief  in  check,  telling  him  that  King 
Louis  would  in  good  time  send  his  soldiers  to  drive 
away  the  English." 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  cried  Bradstreet,  interrupting  the  Creole's 
manly  defence ;  "  you  have  a  ready  tongue,  mon- 
sieur !  Nevertheless,  despite  the  tidings  of  the  treaty 
of  Paris,  the  messages  sent  to  the  French  here  by 


348    THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

their  own  former  Governor  of  Montreal,  the  reiterated 
news  of  the  cession  of  Canada  to  his  Majesty  King 
George,  you  twice  went  on  a  mission  from  Pontiac  to 
the  French  forts  in  the  Illinois  country.  You  went 
to  stir  up  their  commanders  and  soldiers  against  us. 
You  are  a  traitor  both  to  your  former  and  your 
present  sovereign,  both  to  the  King  of  France  and 
the  King  of  England." 

"  Monsieur,  I  am  no  traitor !  "  cried  Godefroy, 
starting  forward  angrily. 

At  the  same  moment  the  guards  covered  him 
with  their  muskets,  and  his  wife  smothered  a  cry  of 
despair. 

Remembering  his  position  as  a  captive,  and  his 
bound  hands,  he  fell  back  a  pace,  while  a  scornful 
smile  again  played  about  his  strong  mouth. 

"  I  am  no  traitor,"  he  repeated  doggedly,  "  and  of 
many  acts  alleged  against  me  I  am  guiltless.  Your 
commandant  here  at  the  fort  has  indeed  cherished  a 
viper,  but  I  am  not  the  man.  Would  you  blame  a  son 
for  being  slow  to  believe  that  his  father  has  deserted 
him,  has  refused  him  help  in  his  need  and  given 
him  up  to  his  enemies?  I  held  by  King  Louis.  But 
when  I  went  to  Fort  Chartres,  and  learned  that  the 
English  had  not  lied  to  us,  or  forged  the  documents 
of  the  treaty,  then  I  knew  all  hope  for  the  cause 
of  the  fleur-de-lis  was  gone.  Coming  back,  I  faith- 
fully delivered  to  Pontiac  the  message  of  Monsieur 
Neyon;  to  his  advice  I  added  my  word,  counselling 
the  Ottawa  to  make  peace  with  your  people.  Having 
heard  me,  he  withdrew  to  the  Maumie.  Is  it  for 
this  you  call  me  traitor,  for  this  you  would  put 
me  to  death?  Your  flag  floats  over  Fort  Pontchar- 
train,  and  the  fleur-de-lis  is  trailed  in  the  dust.  You 
may  call  New  France  a  British  province,  but  you 


JACQUES    GODEFROY  349 

cannot  make  her  people  English !  God  has  made 
them  French,  and  French  they  will  ever  be !  " 

"  Cease,  sirrah !  Such  seditious  language  cannot 
be  tolerated.  Odzookens,  I  '11  have  you  hanged 
to-morrow  in  the  name  of  the  King.  It  is  martial 
law  with  us  now ;  we  have  no  need  of  court  or  legal 
bickerings.  A  rebel  may  be  strung  up  sans  shrift  on 
a  bough  of  the  nearest  tree." 

At  this  harsh  verdict  from  the  commanding  officer, 
a  shrill  cry  broke  from  Madame  Godefroy,  and  she 
rushed  forward  to  cast  herself  upon  her  husband's 
neck,  but  was  warded  off  by  the  cold  steel  of  the 
guards'  muskets  levelled  at  her  breast. 

"  Take  the  woman  out !  "  roared  Bradstreet. 

Poor  Madame  Clotilde  quickly  withdrew  behind 
the  flap  of  the  curtain  which  separated  the  main 
tent  from  the  ante-chamber,  and  the  pitying  orderly 
assumed  that  the  command  was  obeyed  according  to 
the  letter. 

At  this  point  Captain  Morris  interposed.  The 
fearless  bearing  and  straightforward  defence  of  Gode- 
froy had  impressed  him  greatly.  Here  was  a  man  to 
be  trusted ;  a  man  who  acknowledged  his  loyalty  to 
his  friends,  his  cause,  even  in  the  face  of  death.  He 
felt  that  Jacques  Godefroy  would  keep  any  pledge 
he  might  give.  He  (Morris)  needed  the  help  of 
such  a  man. 

"  Colonel  Bradstreet,"  he  said,  "  mayhap  you  might 
make  a  more  serviceable  disposal  of  the  prisoner 
than  by  hanging  him." 

"  How  now?  "  demanded  the  colonel,  turning  upon 
him. 

"  In  commissioning  me  to  go  into  the  Illinois 
country,  did  you  not  grant  me  the  privilege  of  select- 
ing my  escort?  " 


350    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

"  Yes,  verily,  since  the  expedition  will  be  one  for 
no  carpet  knight,"  rejoined  his  chief,  laughing. 

"  I  understand  its  perils ;  therefore  I  wish  to  have 
Jacques  Godefroy  for  my  guide." 

Even  the  prisoner  started. 

"  Would  you  put  your  head  into  the  lion's  mouth?  " 
queried  the  colonel,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Certainly  not ;  but  could  I  have  a  better  inter- 
mediary than  this  man?  If  Jacques  Godefroy  will 
promise  to  lead  me  through  the  wilderness  and  be 
loyal  to  me,  I  choose  him  for  a  conductor  above  all 
others." 

Godefroy  raised  his  head  once  more  and  turned  a 
grateful,  softened  look  upon  the  young  man  who  not 
only  intervened  to  save  him  from  a  felon's  fate,  but 
offered  him  a  position  of  confidence  and  honor. 

"  Odzookens,  if  you  can  make  use  of  the  fellow  I 
would  willingly  give  him  to  you  were  it  not  that 
Major  Gladwin  has  been  at  some  pains  to  impress 
upon  me  that  he  should  be  hanged,"  replied  the 
colonel,  yawning. 

In  truth,  he  was  weary  of  the  subject.  The  life  of 
a  Creole  seemed  to  him  of  no  more  account  than  that 
of  an  Indian,  and  he  regarded  the  latter  as  pests  of 
whom  his  countrymen  were  to  rid  themselves  as  soon 
as  might  be. 

During  all  this  scene  Major  Gladwin  had  sat  silent 
and  apparently  coldly  indifferent  to  what  was  taking 
place  before  him. 

Now,  being  directly  appealed  to,  he  said,  with  an 
unchanging  countenance,  — 

"My  sentiments  are  not  altered,  sir;  I  see  no 
reason  why  clemency  should  be  extended  to  the 
prisoner." 

Even  a  brave  man  is  glad  to  make  a  truce  with 


JACQUES    GODEFROY  351 

death.  The  light  that  had  illumined  Jacques'  honest 
face,  as  the  hope  of  reprieve  was  extended  to  him, 
faded  at  the  words  of  the  major,  and  he  nerved 
himself  to  hear  his  condemnation  blurted  out  by 
Bradstreet. 

In  an  agony  of  terror,  Dame  Clotilda  emerged 
from  the  shadow,  and  would  have  cast  herself  at  the 
feet  of  Gladwin  to  beg  the  life  of  her  husband,  but  a 
glance  from  Godefroy  forbade  her.  Perhaps  he  sur- 
mised that  her  prayer  would  be  of  no  avail ;  per- 
haps in  his  pride  he  preferred  death  rather  than  to 
see  his  wife  thus  plead  with  his  enemy  for  mercy. 

But  in  Sterling  he  had  another  champion. 

"  Surely,  Major  Gladwin,  you  are  willing  to  accord 
the  prisoner  this  chance  held  out  to  him  by  Captain 
Morris?  "  he  urged  with  heat. 

There  was  a  tense  pause,  during  which  the  colonel 
was  seized  with  a  violent  fit  of  coughing.  What  with 
strong  liquor  and  tobacco,  his  throat  had  grown  dry, 
and  he  was  stout  and  apoplectic. 

The  orderly  stepped  into  the  ante-room  and,  seiz- 
ing a  ewer  filled  with  water  that  stood  upon  the  floor 
of  the  tent,  brought  it  in,  and,  pouring  some  of 
the  water  into  a  goblet,  offered  it  to  the  choking 
official. 

Before  the  latter  raised  it  to  his  lips,  however,  the 
voice  of  Godefroy  rang  out  clear  and  firm, — 

"Do  not  drink  it;  the  water  is  poisoned." 

Bradstreet's  hand  was  a  trifle  unsteady,  as  he  set 
down  the  goblet,  and,  pointing  to  the  dog  at  his  feet, 
gasped,  — 

"Try  it  on  the  brute." 

Sterling  experienced  a  feeling  of  disgust. 

"It  were  a  pity  to  sacrifice  the  poor  beast,"  he 
said. 


352     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

Bradstreet  did  not  believe  that  the  water  was  poi- 
soned. 

"  It  is  a  ruse  ;  the  Canadian  is  crafty  as  a  Norman," 
he  muttered  between  paroxysms  of  coughing. 

The  orderly  poured  a  little  of  the  water  into  a 
dish,  and  the  dog  drank  it  with  avidity.  Whatever  the 
nature  of  the  poison,  it  took  effect  speedily ;  within  a 
few  moments  the  animal  had  sunk  into  a  deep  sleep. 

"  Odzookens,  major,  I  shall  have  to  leave  this 
matter  in  your  hands  with  a  recommendation  to 
mercy.  I  cannot  hang  a  man  who  has  prevented 
me  from  becoming  like  to  that  insensate  log,"  de- 
clared Bradstreet,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 

Sterling's  lip  curled  with  scorn  at  the  colonel's 
weak  evasion  of  the  matter,  when  he  should  have 
taken  it  upon  himself. 

Godefroy's  glance  sought  the  face  of  the  comman- 
dant; Clotilde's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  officer  in 
agonized  supplication  ;  Sterling's  questioned  him,  but 
still  he  averted  his  gaze  and  remained  silent,  rigid  as 
a  statue  of  marble. 

Gladwin  had  decided  that  Godefroy  should  pay  the 
penalty  for  his  stubborn  resistance  of  British  author- 
ity, his  obduracy  in  remaining  the  friend  of  Pontiac  ; 
and,  imagining  that  in  this  decision  he  was  biassed  by 
no  personal  prejudice  or  enmity,  the  major  clung  to 
it  with  the  obstinacy  of  his  character.  Godefroy  must 
suffer  death,  as  an  example  to  the  French  that  the 
sovereignty  of  the  British  was  not  to  be  defied  with 
impunity. 

"Since  the  decision  is  left  to  me,"  he  began,  after 
clearing  his  throat  — 

"  One  moment,  sir,  I  beg  of  you,"  interrupted  An- 
gelique  Cuillerier,  stepping  forward  and  speaking  for 
the  first  time. 


JACQUES    GODEFROY  353 

As  Sterling  watched  her,  his  thoughts  flew  back  to 
the  memorable  evening  when  he  had  encountered  her 
at  the  council  house.  Now,  as  then,  her  soft  cheeks 
glowed  with  the  delicate  blush  of  the  eglantine,  her 
eyes  grew  lustrous,  and  her  dark  hair,  falling  in  wavy 
disorder  about  her  brow  and  neck,  made  a  frame  for 
her  sweet  face. 

"  Monsieur  Gladwin,"  she  said  simply,  in  a  voice 
which  trembled  somewhat,  "  Monsieur  Gladwin,  /  ask 
the  release  of  your  prisoner." 

For  an  instant  Gladwin's  brows  lowered,  and  he 
changed  color.  There  was  a  moment  of  tense  silence. 
Then,  tardily,  unwillingly,  and  as  though  impelled  by 
an  influence  stronger  than  himself,  he  turned  his  head, 
and  met  the  glance  of  the  demoiselle.  Angelique 
smiled,  —  confidently,  expectantly. 

At  that  smile  all  the  chivalry  in  the  nature  of  the 
man  seemed  unlocked,  even  as  a  sunbeam  thaws  the 
hoar  frost  and  melts  the  snows. 

Slowly  he  rose  to  his  feet,  bowed  to  her  with 
soldierly  dignity,  and,  facing  Colonel  Bradstreet, 
said,  — 

"  Sir,  during  the  time  we  were  besieged  by  Pontiac, 
this  young  lady  rendered  a  great  service  to  the  offi- 
cers and  garrison  of  this  fort.  I  am  bound  in  honor 
to  give  heed  to  any  petition  she  may  make.  There- 
fore, since  she  intercedes  for  Jacques  Godefroy,  I 
recommend  that  the  prisoner  be  released." 

Bradstreet  nodded  assent,  and,  picking  up  his  silver 
snuff-box  from  the  table,  took  a  generous  pinch  of 
Rappee. 

Had  the  death-penalty  been  demanded,  he  would 

as  coolly  have  bidden  the  guard  to  conduct  honest 

Jacques  from  his  presence,  and  make  for  him  a  gibbet 

of  the  nearest  tree.    But,  if  the  commandant  chose  to 

23 


354     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

spare  the  life  of  the  Frenchman  at  the  request  of  a 
charming  demoiselle,  it  mattered  little  to  him. 

"  Odzookens,  you  sly  fox,"  he  muttered  in  an 
undertone  to  Gladwin,  "the  girl  is  so  deuced  pretty, 
that  to  gain  a  pleasant  glance  from  her  I  would  par- 
don a  score  of  rebels." 

The  major  scarcely  heard,  however.  He  had  turned 
again  to  Angelique,  who  smiled  her  thanks  and  curt- 
sied low. 

"  Jacques  Godefroy,"  said  the  colonel,  "  you  owe 
your  life  to  the  mediation  of  Mademoiselle  Cuillerier; 
but  I  impose  a  condition.  It  is  that  you  pledge  your- 
self to  faithfully  guide  this  gentleman,  Captain  Morris, 
during  the  expedition  whereon  he  is  about  to  set  out, 
and  that  you  will  take  good  care  of  him.  Will  you 
give  me  this  pledge  upon  your  oath?" 

"  I  swear  by  le  bon  Dieu  that  I  will  guard  his  life 
with  my  own,"  answered  Godefroy  solemnly. 

"  Set  the  man  free,"  said  Bradstreet  to  the  guards. 

Thereupon,  the  soldier  to  the  right  of  the  prisoner 
drew  his  dirk  and  cut  the  thongs  that  bound  the  hands 
of  Godefroy ;  and  Dame  Clotilde,  weeping  now  for 
gladness,  cast  herself  into  her  husband's  arms. 

The  other  soldier,  saluting  the  colonel,  pointed  to 
the  floor  of  the  tent,  in  front  of  the  table. 

Bradstreet,  who  had  forgotten  the  dog,  now  glanced 
carelessly  toward  it. 

"  Odzookens,  the  brute  is  dead  !  "  he  said,  and  fiery 
and  swollen  as  was  his  visage,  it  seemed  to  grow  less 
red  as  he  contemplated  the  poisoned  animal. 

The  attention  of  the  commandant  being  thus  called 
to  it  also,  he  disgustedly  touched  it  with  the  toe  of 
his  boot,  and,  having  made  sure  that  it  was  really 
dead,  motioned  to  the  men  to  take  it  away. 

As  they  approached  to  do  so,  the  sharp  crack  of  a 


JACQUES   GODEFROY  355 

musket-shot  rang  through  the  tent,  and  a  bullet, 
aimed  to  kill  Gladvvin,  grazing  his  left  arm,  tore  a 
rent  in  the  canvas  wall  but  three  feet  beyond  him. 

The  report  was  followed  by  a  succession  of  shots 
without.  Snatching  the  pistols  from  their  belts,  Glad- 
win  and  Captain  Morris  rushed  from  the  tent,  Sterl- 
ing beside  them,  with  drawn  sword.  The  colonel, 
sobered  on  the  instant,  followed,  baring  his  sabre  as 
he  went. 

Had  that  shot  been  the  signal  of  a  new  uprising  of 
the  French?  Finding  the  English  thus  encamped 
upon  the  open  common,  had  they  betrayed  their 
conquerors  into  the  hands  of  the  savages?  Was  Pon- 
tiac  returned,  many  times  more  powerful  than  before? 

The  commotion  might  mean  any  or  all  of  these 
things.  Yet  it  meant  none  of  them,  and  presently  a 
laugh  went  up  from  the  officers  and  the  soldiers  of 
the  camp,  as  it  became  evident  that  their  apprehen- 
sions were  groundless. 

The  captain  of  the  watch  approached  Gladwin,  and 
saluted. 

"  A  spy  and  assassin  has  been  shot  dead,  sir,"  he 
reported. 

The  commandant  went  forward  to  survey  the  body. 
The  moon  was  now  risen,  and,  as  a  soldier  stooped 
and  turned  over  the  dark  object  lying  inanimate  upon 
the  grass,  a  ray  of  silver  light  fell  upon  the  face  of 
the  dead  man. 

"It  is  Larron?"  exclaimed  Gladwin,  starting  back 
in  horror  and  surprise. 

"  Yes,  Larron,  whom  you  trusted,  monsieur  le  com- 
mandant," replied  Jacques  Godefroy,  who,  having 
seized  a  musket  that  stood  in  a  corner  of  the  tent, 
had  followed  close  behind  to  defend,  if  there  were 
need,  the  men  that  awhile  before  would  have  put 


356     THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

him  to  death.  "  Larron,  who  betrayed  your  plans 
to  Pontiac;  Larron,  who  poisoned  the  drinking 
water  in  the  ewer.  As  I  was  conducted  here  from 
the  blockhouse  which  you  made  my  prison,  I  saw 
him  lingering  about  the  outer  tent  and  suspected  his 
errand,  though  I  could  not  have  sworn  to  it.  His 
caution  and  reason  had  been  stolen  by  deep  draughts 
of  your  English  rum,  else  he  would  not  have  cast 
away  his  miserable  life  so  wantonly.  Clever  as  you 
English  are,  he  duped  you  to  the  last.  Despite 
his  wiles  and  fawning  for  your  favor,  he  hated  you 
with  all  the  venom  of  his  snake-like  nature.  He 
took  your  bribes  and  mocked  at  you.  It  was  he  who 
connived  at  the  butcheries  of  the  Ottawas ;  he  who 
would  have  slain  you  before  you  had  a  chance  to  cry 
out,  save  for  the  intervention  of  the  Ojibwa  girl,  Ne- 
dawniss.  Now,  in  his  drunken  madness  he  thought, 
no  doubt,  that  by  picking  off  one  of  the  officers  he 
would  start  an  uprising  of  the  townspeople ;  where- 
upon the  Indians,  quickly  forgetting  the  peace  belts 
they  exchanged  with  you  to-day,  would  rush  to  the 
aid  of  the  French.  Words  are  wind,  but  seeing  is  be- 
lieving, Major  Gladwin  !  In  shooting  down  this  spy, 
your  soldiers  have  done  better  work  for  your  cause 
than  if  they  had  routed  a  horde  of  savage  warriors." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIXTH 

CONQUEST  IN   SURRENDER 

IT  was  late  afternoon  at  the  strait  —  the  afternoon 
of  one  of  those  cool,  delightful  days  that  come 
toward  the  last  of  August,  deluding  those  who  are 
not  weather-wise  into  the  belief  that  the  heat  of  sum- 
mer is  over,  a  faith  to  be  speedily  submerged  by  the 
torrid  wave  upon  whose  sunlit  crest  comes  floating 
in,  like  a  waif  from  the  sea  of  Time,  the  young  god 
of  the  harvest,  September. 

The  fort  was  a  scene  of  gaiety  upon  this  pleasant 
afternoon.  There  had  been  a  review  of  the  troops 
on  the  parade  ground  in  front  of  the  council  house. 
The  French  were  out  in  gala  attire,  and  congratulated 
one  another  that  they  were  no  longer  penned  up 
within  the  stockade,  as  the  marionettes  of  a  puppet 
show  are  shut  up  in  a  box  when  they  have  no  part  to 
play  upon  the  stage. 

The  gates  of  the  palisade  were  wide  open.  Al- 
though sentinels  stood  on  guard,  townspeople  and 
habitants  flocked  in  and  out  at  will,  or  strolled 
through  the  English  camp  upon  the  common.  As 
the  sun  sank  to  the  west,  many  of  the  holiday  makers 
sought  the  river.  Farmers  from  the  "  c6te  du  nord  " 
and  the  southern  shore  set  out  for  home  in  their 
pirogues,  from  the  water  gate  or  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Rigolet  des  Hurons.  Soldiers,  voyageurs,  lovers 
embarked  on  the  stream,  and  the  voices  of  many  gay 
boating  parties  floated  over  the  waters. 


358    THE    HEROINE   OF   THE    STRAIT 

Pottawattomie  women  haunted  the  strand,  offering 
moccasins  and  bead-work  for  sale,  while  their  pap- 
pooses  stared  round-eyed  from  the  birch-bark  cradles 
bound  upon  the  backs  of  the  mothers.  Traders  in 
fantastic  dress  jested  with  shy  Indian  girls,  redskin 
children  played  upon  the  bank  or  swam  in  the  clear 
current,  and  now  and  again  a  warrior  without  his  war- 
paint strode  by  on  the  pebbly  beach. 

It  was  at  this  hour  that  Colonel  Bradstreet,  stand- 
ing on  the  water  bastion,  saw  the  interpreter,  James 
Sterling,  assist  into  a  canoe  the  pretty  young  lady 
who  the  evening  before  had  confronted  the  military 
court  with  such  charming  temerity,  and  had  claimed 
from  Major  Gladwin  the  life  of  her  countryman 
with  an  assurance  that  her  request  would  not  be 
denied. 

"  Odzookens,"  soliloquized  the  colonel,  levelling 
his  lens  upon  the  little  skiff  to  behold  the  young  man 
take  the  place  facing  his  fair  passenger,  "  I  would 
give  a  purse  of  gold  to  be  the  pilot  of  that  craft, 
though  I  am  not  exactly  built  for  aquatic  exercise." 

His  glance  roved  ruefully  over  his  bulky  and  rotund 
form  as  he  continued,  — 

"  Where  is  Gladwin,  I  wonder  !  Is  he  going  to  let 
the  canny  Scot  carry  off  the  pearl  of  these  Creole  de- 
moiselles? There  should  be  a  duel,  at  least!  Egad, 
it  might  be  a  fine  plan  for  me  to  set  the  two  to  kill 
each  other,  and  then  elope  with  the  lady  myself.  By 
my  faith,  I  thought  the  major  a  frozen  sea,  calm  on 
the  surface  but  surging  beneath,  yet  I  could  swear 
his  color  deepened  when  the  black-eyed  demoiselle 
flung  him  that  look  of  reproach  and  spirited  demand 
last  night.  A  romance  is  under  all  this,  I  '11  wager, 
but  it  would  take  an  ocean  plummet  line  to  fathom 
Gladwin." 


CONQUEST    IN    SURRENDER         359 

Meanwhile,  the  Scotchman,  with  Mademoiselle 
Cuillerier  in  the  bow  of  his  canoe,  paddled  up  the 
river.  Young  and  ardent,  each  confronted  in  the 
eyes  of  the  other  the  sweet  question  and  answer  that 
make  life  more  worth  the  living. 

Did  the  thoughts  of  both,  like  the  lake  birds  flit- 
ting over  the  water,  wing  their  way  back  over  their 
course  to  the  close  of  a  day  memorable  in  the  town 
and  on  the  c6tes,  since  it  was  the  first  that  followed 
the  arrival  of  Sir  William  Johnson  at  Le  Detroit? 
That  evening  long  past,  when  Angelique  had  gone 
boating  with  Sterling  just  after  the  Angelus  hour? 

Again,  as  then,  the  young  man  beheld  the  graceful 
figure  and  piquant  face  of  the  girl  against  the  dreary 
background  of  the  Isle  au  Cochon,  the  morass  of  Le 
Grand  Marais,  the  forests,  and  the  wide  expanse  of 
the  river. 

Dark,  mysterious,  and  silent,  the  wooded  island 
might  be  likened  to  some  grim  Indian  warrior  keep- 
ing watch  before  the  still  lonelier  retreat  beyond.  As 
Sterling's  imagination  thus  pictured  it,  he  seemed  to 
hear  again  the  voice  of  his  companion  saying, — 

"  We  French  call  that  isolated  spot  the  Isle  au 
P£che,  because  of  its  fine  fisheries ;  but  to  the  Indians 
it  is  known  as  the  burial-place  of  their  Prophet. 
There  the  Great  Chief  has  his  lodge  and  holds 
council  with  the  manitou  of  the  strait." 

He  recalled  how,  when  he  had  asked  the  name  of 
this  mighty  leader  of  the  aborigines,  her  voice  sank  to 
a  frightened  whisper,  and  she  shivered  with  a  sudden 
chill  as  she  answered, — 

"  He  is  called  Pontiac." 

And  at  the  very  utterance  of  the  fateful  name  a 
gloom  had  settled  upon  them,  —  a  gloom  that  never 
since  had  been  entirely  lifted. 


360    THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

Yes,  now  it  was,  of  course,  again  the  voice  of 
Angelique  which  sounded  in  his  ears.  But  at  present 
her  tone  was  one  of  raillery,  and  the  breeze  was  only 
pleasantly  cool,  giving  her  an  excuse  to  draw  her  be- 
witching blue  scarf  closer  about  her  shoulders. 

"  Eh  bien,  Monsieur  Taciturne,  your  silence  is 
most  entertaining,  though  many  a  demoiselle  might 
prefer  a  livelier  cavalier  in  a  canoe  ride  this  fair 
evening,"  she  chided  banteringly. 

The  Scotchman  aroused  himself  with  a  start. 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  mademoiselle,"  he  cried. 
"  I  was  a  churl  to  let  my  gaze  stray  from  your  face  to 
the  black  groves,  that  rest  upon  the  water  like  the 
dark,  threatening  hand  of  the  Indian  prophet,  the 
Keeper  of  the  Gates  of  the  Lakes.  My  only  excuse 
is  that  my  reverie  was  of  you.  I  was  thinking  of  the 
dangers  you  have  braved  since  the  evening  upon  the 
river,  when  I  first  heard  from  your  lips  the  name  of 
the  remarkable  Ottawa  who  involved  us  all,  French 
and  British,  in  such  misery.  Ah,  Angelique,  although 
in  your  company  I  may  be  at  times  as  one  tongue- 
tied,  yet  the  consciousness  that  you  are  near  thrills 
ever  through  my  heart.  Thus  my  soul  is  filled  with 
joy  and  thankfulness,  when  from  the  sombre  view  of 
Nature,  outstretched  yonder,  my  eyes  return  to  you, 
and  I  see  you  lovelier,  sweeter,  nobler  even  than 
before  the  storm  which  has  swept  over  this  country 
of  the  strait,  and  left  such  devastation  in  its  wake." 

Angelique  gave  a  little  deprecating  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  and  contracted  her  brows,  but  her  frown 
soon  changed  to  a  smile.  The  Highlander  had  made 
a  pretty  apology  for  his  muteness.  Moreover,  now, 
as  on  the  never-to-be-forgotten  evening  before  the 
siege,  she  saw  beyond  his  earnest  face  the  glow  of 
the  sunset. 


CONQUEST   IN   SURRENDER         361 

True,  it  was  not  now  a  calm  tide  of  green  and 
amber,  but  an  ocean  of  rose  and  flame  that  grew 
every  moment  fainter,  until  above  it  gleamed  the 
evening  star. 

"  I  do  not  care  to  look  upon  the  groves  of  the  Isle 
au  Pe"che,  or  the  scenes  of  Indian  fury,"  she  said. 
"Ah,  monsieur,  head  the  canoe  a  little  to  the  south,  I 
pray,  that  you  may  see  the  glory  of  the  western  sky." 

Dipping  his  paddle,  Sterling  brought  the  boat 
half  round,  and  once  more  a  quiet  fell  upon  the 
lovers  as  they  watched  the  celestial  sea. 

In  the  life  of  a  woman  one  hour  stands  forth  su- 
preme, —  the  hour  when  the  man  who  has  become 
the  hero  of  her  maiden  fancy  avows  his  love  and  asks 
her  to  lay  her  hand  in  his  before  God's  altar.  More 
than  once  Sterling  had  repeated  his  protestations  of 
devotion  and  renewed  his  offer  of  marriage,  but  still 
she  had  hesitated. 

"Angelique,"  he  now  said,  pointing  toward  the 
sunset,  "  the  gates  of  the  future  are  open ;  say,  sweet 
one,  that  you  will  voyage  with  me  in  the  canoe  of 
life  ? " 

He  leaned  forward  and,  unrepulsed,  laid  his  strong 
right  hand  upon  her  own,  but  still  she  did  not  reply. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  love  me,  Angelique,"  he  en- 
treated. "  Tell  me  that  you  will  be  my  wife? " 

And  Angelique,  lowering  her  eyes  from  the  cloud 
ocean,  whose  shining  billows  seemed  to  break  upon 
the  Islands  of  the  Blessed,  met  his  gaze  and  answered 
falteringly,  — 

"Yes,  Monsieur  Sterling,  I  love  you;  I  will  be 
your  wife." 

Leaning  toward  her,  he  kissed  the  sweet  lips  that 
had  so  often  mocked  him  with  their  smiling. 

"  Since  there  can  be  no  doubt  about  this  being  a 


362     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

betrothal,  even  good  Father  Potier  would  not  disap- 
prove," he  said  teasingly.  "Ah,  cherie,  with  your 
dear  face  before  me,  what  will  it  matter  to  me  how 
dark  may  be  life's  background !  With  the  promise 
of  a  bright  to-morrow  shining  through  the  gates  of 
light,  we  shall  not  lose  courage  as  we  voyage  on." 

Engrossed  in  their  happiness,  the  lovers  presently 
found  themselves  in  the  vicinity  of  the  English  ship 
wherein  Major  Gladwin  was  to  sail  the  next  day  for 
Fort  Schlosser,  with  the  discharged  garrison. 

"  How  strange  it  will  be  to  have  a  new  comman- 
dant at  the  fort !  Brave  Major  Gladwin !  Ma  foi, 
I  fear  he  will  not  be  sorry  to  leave  Le  Detroit,"  said 
Angelique  inadvertently,  as  the  canoe,  obeying  the 
impetus  of  Sterling's  dexterous  stroke,  shot  past  the 
dark  hulk  of  the  vessel. 

"  As  events  have  turned  out,  he  will  not  be  sorry," 
replied  her  lover  pointedly.  "  He  is  a  strong  man,  and 
in  his  military  capacity  I  wished  him  all  advantage. 
In  his  love-making  I  could  not  desire  his  success, 
since  to  do  so  would  be  to  wish  my  own  defeat.  Yes, 
I  will  acknowledge,  sweetheart,  I  have  been  most  jeal- 
ous of  the  commandant." 

Angelique  flushed  red  as  the  peonies  that  grew 
before  the  door  of  the  Cuillerier  homestead,  and, 
trailing  a  hand  over  the  side  of  the  canoe,  toyed  with 
the  water,  dipping  it  up  in  her  palm  and  then  shak- 
ing the  drops  like  pearls  from  her  fingers. 

"  Ma  foi,  ces  Anglais,  ces  Anglais,"  she  exclaimed 
suddenly,  with  a  peal  of  merry  laughter. 

"  Cherie,  /  am  not  English,"  he  protested. 

"  Eh  bien,  these  British,"  she  retorted  tantalizingly. 
"  Fi  done,  mon  bon  ami,  are  you  not  ashamed  thus 
to  harbor  the  Loup-Garou  of  jealousy  ?  Major 
Gladwin  is  married." 


CONQUEST   IN   SURRENDER         363 

"Married?"  echoed  Sterling,  in  intense  and  incredu- 
lous surprise.  "  He  has  not  taken  a  wife  at  the  strait ! 
You  mean  that  he  was  married  when  he  came  back 
from  England  ?  His  officers  are  not  aware  of 
this ;  you  knew  it,  yet  never  spoke  of  it  to  me,  ma 
belle  ? " 

"The  name  of  Major  Gladwin  was  seldom  men- 
tioned between  us ;  it  seemed  always  to  put  Monsieur 
Sterling  in  an  ill  humor,"  she  replied  naively.  "  If 
the  commandant  did  not  tell  his  brother  officers  of 
his  marriage,  I  presume  it  was  because  he  considered 
that  it  did  not  concern  them." 

She  had  touched  the  keynote  of  Gladwin's  char- 
acter, a  proud  and  impenetrable  reserve,  a  sensitive- 
ness to  and  dislike  of  mess-room  or  barracks  gossip 
which  made  him  averse  to  having  his  personal  affairs 
discussed  among  his  subalterns  and  men. 

Sterling  was  for  a  moment  impressed  by  her  sur- 
mise. Presently  his  face  darkened,  and  he  brought 
the  paddle  down  upon  the  water  with  such  force 
that  the  canoe  leaped  forward  like  a  frightened 
deer. 

"  No,  that  is  not  the  reason  the  man  kept  his  mar- 
riage secret,"  he  cried  fiercely.  "  He  has  dared  to 
pay  court  to  you,  Angelique,  to  offer  you  his  love, 
and  all  the  while  he  had  a  wife  beyond  the  seas. 
Thank  Heaven,  you  have  given  me  the  right  to 
avenge  this  insult.  I  will  fight  him,  I  will  kill  him 
before  he  has  a  chance  to  sail  away." 

Angelique's  mobile  face  grew  white,  and  she  drew 
herself  up  proudly. 

"  I  am  beholden  to  you  for  your  championship, 
mon  bon  ami,"  she  said.  "  But  calm  yourself,  for 
you  are  mistaken.  Since  Major  Gladwin's  return 
from  England  he  has  not  spoken  of  love  to  me." 


364    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE    STRAIT 

"And  before?"  Sterling  could  not  refrain  from 
asking,  though  when  the  words  were  uttered  he 
almost  regretted  his  persistence. 

Angelique  hesitated  and  her  eyes  flashed  with  an- 
noyance. Half  in  consternation  she  realized  that  she 
was  no  longer  free,  that  in  plighting  her  troth  to 
Sterling  she  had  given  him  a  right  to  look  into  her 
heart,  to  question  her  thus ;  that  if  she  declined  to 
answer  there  might  be  a  misunderstanding  between 
them  forever.  The  tenderness  of  his  wooing  still 
thrilled  her  soul,  and  she  relented. 

"Before?"  she  repeated  quietly.  "Ehbien,  mon 
bon  ami,  since  you  will  have  the  story.  When  Major 
Gladwin  was  ill  of  the  fever,  shortly  after  his  coming 
to  Le  Detroit,  my  aunt,  Madame  des  Ruisseaux,  helped 
to  nurse  him.  Sometimes  during  his  convalescence 
I  went  with  her  to  see  him,  and  afterwards  we  often 
met  at  her  house.  It  was  on  one  of  these  occasions, 
if  you  must  needs  know,  that  the  gallant  gentleman 
did  me  the  honor  to  offer  me  his  heart  and  hand. 
But,  I  did  not  love  him  and  he  went  away.  In 
England  he  married  the  sweetheart  of  his  boyhood. 
He  loves  her ;  his  thought  of  me  was  only  a  passing 
fancy.  For  some  time  after  his  return  I  did  not  know 
of  his  marriage ;  yet  I  seldom  had  speech  with  him. 
One  evening,  however,  after  I  saw  him  at  the  council 
house,  he  called  at  Madame  des  Ruisseaux's.  I  hap- 
pened to  be  there,  and  he  told  me  of  his  romance  in 
frank  and  honorable  fashion.  There  was  one  other, 
at  least,  to  whom  it  became  known  also.  This  was 
Nedawniss  the  Ojibwa  whom  Father  Potier  had  ar- 
ranged to  send  to  live  among  the  Ottawa  women 
beyond  the  Maumie.  Nedawniss,  who  on  the  eve  of 
her  departure,  having  heard  rumor  of  a  plot  against 
the  commandant,  watched  about  the  fort,  and  saved 


CONQUEST  IN   SURRENDER         365 

him  from  the  knife  of  the  assassin  at  the  cost  of  her 
own  life." 

"  Poor  Nedawniss,"  rejoined  Sterling  pityingly. 
"  As  for  Major  Gladwin,  in  truth,  I  never  thought  to 
feel  so  kindly  toward  him.  May  honors  and  happi- 
ness await  him  in  England !  " 

"And  you  no  longer  wish  to  know  why  I  once 
went  in  disguise  to  the  council  house  to  gain  speech 
with  him?  "  queried  Angelique. 

"  I  no  longer  wish  to  know,  if  you  do  not  wish  to 
tell  me." 

"  Eh  bien,  then  I  will  tell  you,"  she  said.  "  It  was 
a  matter  of  grave  moment." 

Her  tone  was  eloquent  and  she  struggled  to  con- 
trol the  emotion  that  betrayed  itself  in  the  tremor  of 
her  voice. 

A  light  broke  upon  Sterling.  Had  he  not  heard 
Nedawniss  tell  her  story,  no  doubt  he  would  have 
thought  of  this  before. 

"  Angelique,"  he  declared,  "  it  was  you  who  re- 
vealed to  Major  Gladwin  the  conspiracy  of  Pontiac. 
It  was  you,  and  not  Nedawniss  the  Ojibwa  girl?" 

"  H'sh,"  murmured  the  demoiselle  warningly. 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,  mon  bon  ami.  Pontiac's 
contempt  for  the  white  squaw  alone  saved  me  from 
discovery.  He  could  never  have  believed  that  a 
French  girl  would  dare  tempt  his  vengeance." 

"  Sweetheart,  you  are  the  bravest  woman  in  the 
Canadas,"  exclaimed  her  lover.  "  I  pray  God  we 
may  spend  many  years  together  in  wedded  happi- 
ness, yet  the  longest  life  would  be  all  too  short  for 
me  to  prove  to  you  how  much  I  love  you." 

"  Oh,  oh,  monsieur,  you  will  overturn  the  canoe," 
cautioned  his  tantalizing  sweetheart  with  a  dash  of 
her  wonted  spirit. 


366     THE    HEROINE   OF   THE   STRAIT 

This  masterful  "  bon  ami "  had  taken  her  to  task 
about  her  former  cavaliers,  and  she  had  answered 
him,  for  he  was  soon  to  be  her  husband.  Neverthe- 
less, she  would  punish  him.  It  was  not  safe  in  a 
canoe  ride  to  let  a  "  bon  ami "  steal  a  kiss.  It  had 
been  done,  but  was  too  perilous  for  repetition ;  no,  in 
a  canoe  a  "  bon  ami "  must  paddle. 

The  Scotchman  was  about  to  protest  that  he  had 
grown  most  expert  in  the  management  of  his  craft, 
when  Angelique,  raising  her  pretty  hand,  cried,  — 

"  Hark,  do  you  remember?" 

From  over  the  waters  came  the  sounds  of  music, 
faint  at  first  but  growing  every  moment  more  distinct, 
until  the  canoeists  could  distinguish  the  strains  of  a 
gay  French  chanson. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  melody,  and  presently 
there  swept  by  their  little  skiff  a  long  pirogue  manned 
by  a  party  of  habitants  returning  from  the  fisheries  of 
Lake  Ste.  Claire,  who,  as  they  passed,  keeping  time 
to  the  stroke  of  their  oars,  trolled  merrily,  — 

"  C'est  une  patd  de  trois  pigeons,  — 
Ha,  ha,  ha,  —  frit  a  1'huile ! 
Assieds-toi  et  le  mangeons ; 
Fritaine,  fritou,  friton,  poilon,  — 
Ha,  ha,  ha,  — frit  a  1'huile  ! 
Frit  au  beurre  a  1'ognon." 

Even  Sterling  was  constrained  to  join  in  Ange- 
lique's  teasing  laugh  at  this  prosaic  interruption  to 
his  love-making. 

But,  as  now,  in  the  twilight,  he  slowly  paddled  the 
canoe  toward  the  "  c6te  du  nord  "  and  the  small  wharf 
before  the  house  of  Antoine  Cuillerier,  he  sang  to 
Angelique  the  old  Scotch  love  song  wherewith  he 
had  first  wooed  her. 


CONQUEST   IN   SURRENDER         367 

"  Her  eyes  so  brightly  beaming, 

Her  look  so  frank  and  free, 
In  waking  and  in  dreaming 

Are  evermore  with  me. 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hire,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 

Oh,  she 's  the  maid  for  me. 

"  With  her  fair  face  before  me 

How  sweetly  flew  the  hour, 
When  all  her  beauty  held  me 

A  captive  to  its  power. 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hire,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 

Oh,  she 's  the  maid  for  me. 

"  Her  face  with  kindness  glowing, 
Her  heart  that  hides  no  guile ; 

The  light  grace  of  her  going, 
The  witchcraft  of  her  smile. 

Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 

Hire,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 

Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Oh,  she  's  the  maid  for  me. 

"  Ah,  when,  with  blossoms  laden, 

The  summer  comes  again, 
I  '11  wed  my  nut-brown  maiden, 

And  bring  her  from  the  glen. 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hire,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 
Hiro,  my  nut-brown  maiden, 

Oh,  she  's  the  maid  for  me." 


A  few  weeks  later,  Sterling  and  Angelique  were 
married,  and  with  the  fall  convoy,  sent  by  the  French 
traders  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  went  Marianne  de  St. 
Ours  to  join  the  sisterhood  of  the  Hotel  Dieu  at 


368    THE    HEROINE    OF    THE   STRAIT 

Quebec.  The  aid  given  to  Pontiac  by  Antoine 
Cuillerier  seemed  now  forgotten  by  the  red  coats,  but 
only  Father  Potier  and  James  Sterling  could  have 
told  that  Angelique,  by  her  prompt  action  on  a  fair 
May  day  two  years  before,  had  saved  her  father  and 
the  fortunes  of  her  family  in  saving  from  massacre 
the  fort  and  garrison  of  Le  Detroit. 

Pontiac  came  to  the  strait,  made  a  treaty  with 
the  conquerors,  and  the  following  spring  smoked  the 
peace  pipe  with  Sir  William  Johnson  at  Niagara. 
Thence  he  went  to  live  with  the  French  at  St.  Louis, 
where  he  adopted  the  dress  of  a  military  officer,  wear- 
ing on  occasion  the  uniform  that  had  been  presented 
to  him  by  the  gallant  Marquis  de  Montcalm.  One 
day  he  was  followed  from  a  feast  into  the  woods,  and 
assassinated  by  an  Illinois  Indian,  who  had  been  hired 
to  kill  him  by  an  English  trader,  the  price  of  the 
crime  being  a  barrel  of  rum.  To-day  in  the  city  of 
St.  Louis  a  tablet  to  the  memory  of  the  kingly  Ottawa 
hangs  in  the  hall  of  the  Southern  Hotel,  a  few  feet 
from  the  spot  where  he  was  buried  with  military 
honors.  Well  was  he  called  "  the  Great  Chief,"  for 
although  in  his  cruelty,  his  cunning  and  vindictive- 
ness  he  was  a  savage,  he  gave  his  strength  and  all 
his  remarkable  resources  for  his  country  and  his 
people. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  cupidity  of  Major  Rogers  which 
caused  him  to  fail  the  colonies  in  their  hour  of  need. 
Having  at  first  cast  his  lot  with  the  Americans  in  the 
War  of  the  Revolution,  he  went  over  to  the  British 
and  his  subsequent  life  was  passed  in  obscurity. 

After  the  Pontiac  war  Sir  Jeffrey  Amherst  wished 
to  reward  James  Sterling  for  the  conspicuous  bravery 
wherewith  he  had  commanded  the  French  of  Detroit 
during  the  siege.  The  merchant,  however,  accepted 


CONQUEST   IN   SURRENDER        369 

only  the  position  of  interpreter,  thinking  that  in  this 
office  he  might  promote  friendly  relations  between 
the  discomfited  Creoles  and  their  new  rulers. 

"  For  the  rest,"  he  said,  "I  am  a  Scotchman ; 
George  of  Hanover  is  not  my  king,  and  I  cannot  re- 
ceive a  favor  from  his  government." 

Sterling  was  among  the  first  bold  spirits  of  Detroit 
to  embrace  the  cause  of  independence. 

"  We  have  had  enough  of  misrule,"  he  publicly 
asserted.  "  The  Bourbon  forsook  his  people  of  New 
France.  The  Hanoverian  is  a  dolt;  his  government 
shares  his  madness.  The  Stuarts,  too,  were  faithless 
to  their  trust.  It  is  the  new  flag  of  the  Continental 
Congress  that  should  wave  over  the  fort  of  the  strait. 
You  say  you  have  never  beheld  it,  friends.  Look 
above  to  the  deep  blue  field  of  the  star-studded  sky 
on  a  winter's  night ;  look  abroad  over  the  snow-cov- 
ered prairie  to  where  the  aurora  glows  in  the  northern 
heavens.  Or  see  the  sun  reflected  many  times  in 
the  azure  waters  of  the  river,  see  the  white  mists  of 
Lake  Erie  blending  with  the  red  of  the  sunset.  The 
beauties  of  the  land  and  the  skies  we  love  are  reflected 
in  this  new  flag.  It  is  the  flag  that  God  himself  has 
unfurled  over  Le  Detroit!  Shall  we  not  live  for  it? 
Shall  we  not,  if  need  be,  die  for  it?  " 

Naturally,  these  daring  utterances  caused  the  ban- 
ishment of  the  Scotchman  by  General  Hamilton,  the 
British  governor,  and  he  was  not  permitted  to  return 
until  after  Detroit  was  ceded  to  the  United  States 
in  1796. 

Upon  his  departure  to  join  the  American  forces  at 
Kaskasia,  he  left  his  affairs  in  charge  of  his  wife, 
saying,  — 

"  I  know  your  courage,  my  Angelique.     When  in 
doubt  what   to    do,  consult  Father  Potier.     He  can 
24 


370    THE    HEROINE    OF   THE   STRAIT 

give  you  as  good  advice  in  temporal  matters  as  upon 
those  pertaining  to  his  office." 

Occasionally,  therefore,  on  a  summer  afternoon, 
Angelique  embarked  in  a  canoe  with  her  children; 
and  while  Jacques  and  Angelique  the  younger 
paddled  the  light  craft  down  the  Rigolet  des  Hurons, 
little  Pierre,  whom  Sterling  had  named  for  the  mis- 
sionary, played  with  the  bright  water. 

Thus  they  came  to  the  Pointe  de  Montreal,  and, 
drawing  the  boat  up  among  the  bushes,  climbed  the 
bluff,  and  entered  the  mission  orchard,  perhaps  to 
find  good  Father  Potier  walking  there. 

Or,  if  he  were  not  outside,  they  knocked  at  the 
half-open  door,  breaking  the  monastic  stillness  of  the 
spacious  house.  At  the  knock,  even  the  birds  in 
the  apple  trees  paused  in  their  song  to  peer  at  the 
strangers  and  ask,  in  short,  staccato  notes,  why  they 
had  come,  and  why  with  such  rude  sounds  they  inter- 
rupted the  tranquillity  of  the  place. 

And  then,  Brother  La  Tour  came  hobbling  out  -to 
say,  either  that  the  good  Father  was  in  the  church, 
catechising  the  young  Indians  in  the  faith,  or  else  that, 
in  his  study,  he  was  employing  a  chance  hour  of 
leisure  in  the  preparation  of  his  Huron  grammar  and 
vocabulary,  designed  to  serve  as  an  aid  to  the  labors 
of  future  missionaries.  For  he  was  a  scholarly  man, 
and  later,  left  many  valuable  manuscripts,  which  were, 
however,  sequestrated  by  Hamilton,  and  thus  lost. 

But  if  within  doors  on  this  pleasant  afternoon, 
Father  Potier  presently  came  forth  under  the  trees. 
And,  while  the  dame  poured  out  her  heart  or 
received  the  counsels  of  the  venerable  man,  the  chil- 
dren played  about  the  orchard,  hiding  from  one 
another,  chasing  the  yellow  butterflies,  or  feasting 
upon  the  luscious  apples;  while  more  than  once 


CONQUEST   IN   SURRENDER         371 

Brother  Regis  the  cook  sent  them  croquecignoles 
from  the  kitchen. 

Why  there  should  be  croquecignoles  Jacques  and 
Angelique  and  little  Pierre  could  not  understand, 
since  the  brother  said  the  ascetic  missionary  never 
tasted  them.  But  Brother  Regis  explained  that  the 
good  father  was  wont  to  inculcate  his  catechism  les- 
sons by  distributing  among  his  pupils  these  tooth- 
some cakes,  a  method  of  imparting  instruction  most 
popular  with  the  young  savages.  And,  on  the  way 
back  to  the  beach  the  Sterlings  went  round  by  way 
of  the  forge,  that  Jacques  and  Angelique  and  little 
Pierre  might  see  the  mission  blacksmith  beat  the  red- 
hot  iron  into  long,  pointed  nails,  and  watch  the 
sparks  fly,  while  the  thick-set,  brawny  Cecile  laughed 
at  their  wonderment,  saying  that  in  life  it  is  better  to 
be  the  hammer  than  the  anvil,  and  "  a  hammer  of 
gold  will  not  break  Heaven's  gate." 

But  one  day  in  the  summer  of  1781,  when  the  chil- 
dren and  their  mother  went  to  see  the  missionary,  he 
did  not  come  forth  as  usual,  and  the  Hurons  were 
singing  a  dirge  in  their  village.  Fifty  years  of  strenu- 
ous toil  among  the  aborigines  of  the  wilderness  had 
at  last  broken  the  giant  strength  of  the  devoted  priest. 
Brother  La  Tour,  who  took  no  pains  to  conceal  the 
tears  that  stole  down  his  honest  cheeks,  told  the 
visitors  that  the  saintly  old  man,  being  overcome  with 
faintness  while  at  work  in  his  study,  had  fallen  and 
struck  his  head  a  fatal  blow  against  one  of  the  great 
brass  andirons  in  the  open  chimney. 

Thus  passed  away  the  last  missionary  of  Le  Detroit. 
The  log-church  of  the  Hurons  remained  in  existence 
until  1852,  and  among  the  French  of  Detroit  are  to 
be  found  sexagenarians  who  once  worshipped  within 
its  walls.  The  redmen  are  gone  from  the  Pointe  de 


372    THE    HEROINE  OF   THE   STRAIT 

Montreal.  Their  head  sachem  Mondoron  adopted 
an  English  name  and  settled  at  Windsor,  Ontario,  not 
far  from  the  ancient  Huron  village.  His  wife  was  a 
Creole  woman  ;  his  eldest  son  became  a  member  of 
the  parliament  at  Ottawa;  his  daughters  are  well 
married  in  the  little  Canadian  city  of  the  strait. 
Others  of  the  posterity  of  the  aborigines,  whom  good 
Father  Potier  won  from  paganism  to  Christianity  and 
civilization,  own  and  cultivate  small  farms  on  the 
southern  bank  of  the  river. 

But  the  Mission  House,  and  the  orchard  ?  A  year 
ago,  the  stanch  old  house  was  still  standing,  and  gave 
shelter  to  a  family  of  the  descendants  of  the  sturdy 
habitants  who  built  it  in  order  that  the  gentle  Black 
Robe,  driven  from  the  region  by  the  fiery  arrogance 
of  the  Sieur  de  Cadillac,  might  again  live  among 
them. 

Its  huge,  squared  timbers,  never  painted,  and  in 
their  age  showing  the  tints  and  shadows  of  silver,  the 
wide  white-washed  chimneys,  the  sloping  roof  with 
its  three  dormers,  all  bore  witness  to  the  strength  of 
construction  that  enabled  it  to  weather  the  storms  of 
one  hundred  and  seventy  winters.  And  the  orchard? 
A  year  ago,  in  the  spring,  the  Normandy  apple  and 
pear  trees  of  good  Father  Potier  were  white  with  blos- 
soms, even  as  on  the  May  afternoon  when  Angelique 
Cuillerier,  with  a  heart  torn  by  anguish  and  doubt, 
sought  counsel  of  the  missionary. 

In  the  summer,  the  sunshine  lingered  long  about 
the  enclosure,  as  if  it  loved  the  spot ;  the  apples  were 
still  wholesome  and  sweet;  and  the  yellow  and  white 
butterflies  flitted  among  the  wild  flowers  that  lent  a 
hue  of  purple  to  the  long  grass. 

Within  the  shadow  of  the  Mission  House,  with  the 
venerable  trees  looking  down  as  if  in  grave  approval, 


CONQUEST   IN   SURRENDER          373 

and  the  birds  singing  encouragement,  as  though  they 
would  help  to  tell  the  traditions  of  the  leafy  boughs 
and  moss-grown  eaves  where  their  kind  had  nested 
for  nearly  two  centuries,  —  here,  in  this  tranquil  soli- 
tude overlooking  the  shining  waters,  was  woven,  dur- 
ing many  a  happy  afternoon,  this  story  of  "  The 
Heroine  of  the  Strait." 

From  the  mission  farm,  looking  up  the  river,  one 
sees  the  tall  buildings  of  the  metropolis  that  com- 
mands the  Gateway  of  the  Lakes  ;  below  the  Pointe 
de  Montreal,  over  the  United  States  military  post, 
floats  the  star-blazoned  banner  which  has  replaced 
the  fleur-de-lis  and  the  standard  of  St.  George  upon 
the  northern  bank  of  Le  Detroit.  But  now  the  hand 
of  modern  enterprise  has  touched  the  old  Jesuit  land- 
mark spared  by  Time.  The  great  white  chimneys,  a 
monument  to  the  missionaries,  and  to  the  faith  of  the 
French-Canadians,  have  been  torn  down,  and  the  old 
Mission  House,  removed  from  its  foundations,  is  des- 
tined to  form  the  nucleus  of  the  storage  cellars  for 
the  wines  from  the  vineyards  of  the  vicinity.  The 
pleasant  orchard  will  soon  be  no  more. 

Thus,  before  our  Utilitarian  Age,  from  localities 
hallowed  by  tradition  and  sweet  memories,  — 

"Ancient  and  holy  things 
Fade  like  a  dream." 


THE  END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
>U£  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


This  book  fcDl 


MAR  27  1911 
f^UDLD 

MARo  5   Mi 

EB131S 


Form  L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444 


3  1158  00675  0946 


The  heroine  of 
i     the 


FLF 


PS 
Hi73 


